Fading to Black
by Clouded-Days
Summary: A collection of oneshots revolving over that of Bakura and Ryou's life and their relationship, with a new problem each oneshot that occurs in their everyday lives. Can they overcome these obstacles?
1. One Last Game

A/N: It's been a while since I updated my other fics, I know, but I've had a lot going on lately. This idea came to me on the way home today, and I decided to write it out. Hopefully this little piece will hold you guys off for just a _little _longer while I pull out the next chapter of 'Testify'... Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

"It's a shame how it's come down to this, isn't it, Yadonushi?"

I smirk, and you shiver, both from my voice and touch as I trail a finger over the curve of your jaw. Your fear is one of the very few intoxicating things nowadays, although I doubt you realize that.

"You're so frail…" My fingertip trails lower, before dipping about the ridge of your neck, and I feel your Adam's apple shift in a gulp under the digit. "Is there a reason you won't eat the food I give you, Yadonushi?"

You jerk away, your empty eyes squeezed shut. Your eyelids are practically translucent, I notice, and your skin is cold.

"Oh, don't be like that," I murmur, seizing a lock of silver hair, tugging at the now contaminated locks, dirty with dust and grime. You cry out in pain, and although it is a mere weak slip of your tongue, I cannot help but to smirk.

There was a click-clacking of worn iron as you shift your position uneasily, pressing your back further against the wall. You're shaking again.

My hand snaps out in a mere flick, and heads to your waist. My fingers dive into the inner ring of steel, and I latch my fingers about the iron ring about your waist to hold you in place. You whimper at this, your hips moving back towards the grimy wall, but I refuse to allow it. Instead, I pull, jerking you closer.

"I don't understand why you act like this," I say softly, tightly clutching the now baggy ring about your waist. I move it slightly, experimentally trying to slide it off of your waist. And I succeed somewhat, for the iron slips over the top ridge of your hipbones just slightly. "I feed you, you won't eat. I give you a bed to sleep in, you won't sleep in. I give you freedom, and you won't accept it. And now all I resort to is chaining you to a wall, Yadonushi… And you say you're happy…?"

You don't answer, but you don't have to. I already know the truth.

"You don't trust me," I hiss, digging into your abnormally thin side with a sharp nail. "Tell me, why don't you? I try to make you truly happy, and I've tried to give you everything you've wanted…"

"…Liar," you whisper, your voice broken and cracking. After all, water hasn't touched your lips in hours. You've always said you won't drink until you're on the very brink, "You're just…using me… Yuugi was right…about you-"

The bridge of my nose wrinkles with a snarl, before I realize what you've truly said. It's then I feel my expression change into that amusement; after all, how stupid could you be to believe someone like him?

"Oh, Yadonushi, I thought you were smarter than that…" I push you into the wall, my lips stretching further at the hoarse cry that spills over from your cracked lips. "Yuugi never cared. Never. He was only using you to get to _me. _Or, more like… The Pharaoh used him, and then he used you, to merely reach me. You were a meager pawn, and you still are…"

"I-I'm not…" You tense, raising one of your arms, bound tight with rusty chains, and push weakly at my chest. I don't move in the slightest. "N-No…"

"Oh, Yadonsuhi, you _are. _You've always been weak enough to control, and even now, all these years since we first met…" You whimper as blood swells upon your abdomen, my nails drawing the red substance up as they break the skin. "You still are my little pawn, even to this very day."

"N-No," you moan, your head hitting the stone wall behind you, which is filthy with dirt and mold. "I-I'm…not…"

"Just look around you, Yadonushi," I hiss, jerking you away from the supportive wall by the iron loop about your thinning waist. "I've won. I've finally won. I no longer have a use for you, now that I've gained all seven of the Sennen Items. I don't _need _you for the darkness to manifest even more than it already has-"

"…Then…" You raise your head, just slightly, "why are you…keeping me alive…if you don't…need me…?"

"Who says I'm going to keep you?" I smirk, twirling a lock of your hair about one of my fingers. Your broken eyes grow wide, and your breathing shallows. "Maybe I'm going to eliminate you the minute I feel like it… Or maybe I'll just drag this little game between us out for a while, Yadonushi… After all, what other game do I have to play? The Pharaoh and the others lost long ago, and _I _won the ultimate Yami no Game. There's absolutely _nothing _that can hold me back now."

I slam you into the wall then, and I feel a fluttering in my chest as you scream, your sharp cry of pain echoing in the enclosed prison. But even with your echoing cry of hurting floating as an aftershock, all is still, even the ratty light bulb that continuously flickers as it hanging from the leaking ceiling.

You slump in my hold, too weak and defenseless to do anything at all. I grin at this, knowing that, just like always, you're mere putty in my hands.

"O-One…more game…" You sound exhausted, your chocolate eyes cracking open slowly. "O-One more…"

"Humph, that's a mere waste of time, Yadonushi. Why would I want to play a pointless game with you when I've already been crowned a king of them?"

"P-Please," you moan, limp in my hands. The chains are tightening on you as your knees tremble and buckle, for the closer you get to the floor, the tighter the iron restraints will become. It's obvious I'm the only thing holding you off the floor.

"Fine," I sigh somewhat, my grip loosening upon you. After all, I had nothing better to do, for the shadows' manifestation was still in the process. "What so-called game are we playing, Yadonushi?"

"M-Monster…World…" the words are weak on your tongue as you slouch further, grabbing at my arms, and I can tell you are desperately hoping I don't drop you. "L-Like…before…"

I smirk, the memory coming to me in milliseconds. After all, that day playing Monster World with Yuugi and the other little brats, it just showed me new things I hadn't known, _especially _about my little host.

"All right then, Yadonushi. But I don't know how you expect to win. After all…" I begin to pull away, hearing you gasp. "You don't own a White Mage that's level thirteen anymore. All you have is a pathetic, basic pawn."

I release you, and take a step back. I'm surprised, however, to see you still on your feet, though barely, for you're shaking violently.

I turn on my heel, about to leave, "Tonight we shall play, Ryou."

I hear you gasp from behind me, a noise that escaped without will for the fact I had actually called you by your name. "Y-Yami-sama-"

My hand pauses on the string connected to the pathetic little light, and I hesitate in turning it off. Then, I smirk to myself, "I'll allow you to call me Bakura, just this once, Yadonushi."

"…B…Bakura…sama…?"

I chuckle to myself, and I yank the string. You cry out as the darkness instantly sweeps over the tiny space, but you may as well get used to it.

For black will be the only color to meet your eyes after this game tonight.

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Chapter 1: End.

A/N: So, what do you think? I'm trying to practice other forms of writing, like first person and things like that. So, review and leave me some feedback about what you think if you don't mind. Depending on how many reviews I get, I may turn this into a little series of oneshots...


	2. Better than Nothing

A/N: So I decided to keep going with this! As for Testify, the next chapter is nearly completed, thankfully. I'm sorry that it's taking so long, but I had some writer's block and school work to get through, but it's just about finished.

Anyway, about this ficlet, it's a series of oneshots, but the chapters aren't related to each other, at all. This chapter itself was supposed to be uploaded on Valentine's, but I had school work up to my eyeballs, sadly. And since it's a Valentine's upload, it's fluffy. It's brotherly fluff, however, so yeah. I hope you guys enjoy, even though it's a late upload!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

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Bakura sighed to himself as he climbed the metal stairs leading to his apartment, taking them two at a time. After all, it was late, and with the district being all but friendly, he didn't want to waste any time. Not just that, but Ryou was, and had been, at home for several hours, and he wasn't fond of the idea of leaving the child alone any longer than he had to.

He raced up the stairs, his room on the fourth floor. He would've taken the elevator, but it was broken, ever since last Christmas.

He hurried down the hallway, approaching the first door on the right. The number two was missing from the outside of the door, the label having been stolen right off the door one night.

He shifted the grocery bags into his left hand, his right going into the breast pocket of his t-shirt. He fished out the silver key, and placed it into the lock, turning carefully, for last time the key had gotten stuck. He opened the door as softly as he could, and stepped inside.

He found Ryou lying on his stomach in bed, the textbooks laid out before him. The child didn't notice his entrance, chewing on the end of his pencil as he struggled to work on his assignments.

"Ryou, I'm home," Bakura stated, breaking the child from his thinking process. Upon noticing Bakura, the man having walked into the tiny kitchen, Ryou hurriedly got up and raced over to the bigger man.

Bakura placed the two small bags on the counter, and then shedding his backpack, which he was still wearing, and let it drop to the floor. He pulled out a single loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a small container of multivitamins that were for Ryou. He left the items on the counter as he moved to store the plastic bags in the rickety cabinet to use later as a trash bag.

He blinked as he felt a tugging on his pant leg, and Bakura glanced down in a mild confusion. Ryou was standing at his side, staring with his large, innocent eyes, a small smile on his lips.

Bakura chuckled as he leaned down, scooping Ryou up into his lean arms. Ryou giggled loudly at the action, pressing his forehead into Bakura's collarbone. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, kid," Bakura murmured softly.

Ryou smiled, "So, what took ya so long?"

"I had to buy a few things," Bakura said, setting Ryou down on the countertop. "It's not much, but we were limited to less than fifteen bucks this week, so I couldn't buy much…"

Ryou glanced only for a second at the mere three items deemed as groceries, before he smiled up at Bakura, "It's better than nothing."

Bakura's heart felt swollen as he scooped Ryou back up into his arms, his lips buried in Ryou's soft hair, "I just wish I could do more for you. You deserve so much more, Ryou…"

"But you're in college," Ryou started with a frown. "And you got a job. Kura, you're already working really hard…"

"If you say so," Bakura said with a sigh as he moved into the living room, and setting Ryou down on the old mattress before his homework. "Think you can finish your schoolwork for me while I get dinner ready?"

Ryou hesitated, concerned deep down by the edge of sadness in Bakura's voice, but he nodded, and obeyed.

They dinner like every night; sitting on the floor of the kitchen, their backs to the old cabinets, and they would talk of their lives at school. And then, when they finished eating, they would finish their work, and by that time, they were often so tired they went ahead and crawled into bed.

They stayed up later than usual tonight, however, for Ryou was having a difficult time with his math, so Bakura had to take extra time to help him, not that he minded.

At this time, they had both already brushed their teeth in the tiny bathroom, which barely had enough room to move around in, washed up a little, and were getting ready for bed.

"Kura… I'm cold," Ryou whispered, looking up at Bakura with his far too innocent eyes.

Bakura sighed softly at the child's words, having just finished tucking Ryou into bed, which was a mere mattress cast on the floor, complete with a sheet and a blanket. Bakura himself merely slept on the floor, wrapped up in a sheet and blanket himself like he was incased in a cocoon.

"I'm sorry, kid, but there's nothing I can really do," Bakura confessed, pushing the boy's bangs out of his tired looking eyes. Ryou really was shivering, however, for the heat was broken, the insulation was poor, and it was the wintertime, which brought nothing but harsh coldness.

Ryou nodded in understanding, his small line of teeth chattering as he violently shook. Bakura bit his lip at this, his heart feeling like it had melted inside of his chest cavity with pity.

Then, sacrificing what little he already had, he grabbed his blanket off the floor, and proceeded to drape it over Ryou's small body. The covering was too large, so Bakura folded it over a few times, making it thicker in the process.

And it was as Ryou smiled, Bakura felt himself do so as well. After all, as long as Ryou was happy, so was he.

"Good night," Bakura stated simply, lying down on the floor next to Ryou's bed. He wrapped himself up in the pathetic little sheet, literally shaking as he curled into himself, trying to turn himself into the smallest form he could possibly muster.

There was silence for the longest time, other than the faint sound of the neighbors next door, heard from the paper-thin walling, and the quite loud noise of Bakura's teeth clicking as they chattered.

Even dressed in his sweatshirt and thick pants, the ex-thief was still freezing.

He sat there, curled up, when he heard Ryou's mattress creak loudly, signaling the boy had sat up. Then, Bakura heard his little voice, "Kura?"

"Hn?" Bakura didn't want to move, less he lose the heat already collected into certain spots of the sheet and floorboards.

"You're colder than I am," Ryou said in a puzzled tone, his chocolate eyes somewhat narrowed.

"I'll live," Bakura muttered, literally shaking like a leaf, trying his hardest to be strong for the child.

"Nu-uh," Ryou said with a pout, and Bakura turned slightly, staring at him through the weird half-light, a mixture of darkness and early morning brightness. "It isn't fair you always gotta be cold. Come here."

Bakura blinked, puzzled, as Ryou patted the mattress. But, of course, he obeyed, and rose onto his knees, before shakily making his way over, taking a seat on the lumpy mattress.

Ryou forced the man to lie down, before he did so himself, and pulling the blankets over the two of them. The mattress was only made for one person, so the two of them were crushed together, Ryou's small legs curled about Bakura's. They didn't own a pillow, so Ryou decided to use Bakura's arm as one instead.

The two of them sat there for a while, before Ryou broke the silence, "You're not shaking anymore."

"…Yeah," Bakura responded softly, trying to be as still as possible. "It's a lot warmer than the floor, that's for sure."

Ryou smiled, pressing his forehead into the line of Bakura's ribs, which stuck out somewhat from barely getting any nutrition, since he often went hungry to make sure Ryou got enough to stay healthy. "That's good."

Bakura curled up a little more, Ryou's short legs entwined with his own. "I'm just glad you have a heart enough to share," he said jokingly.

"Well… You always work really, really hard, Kura," Ryou said softly, voice somewhat muffled by the fabric of Bakura's sweatshirt. "It's only fair for me to share, right?"

"You're such a good kid, you know," Bakura said with a smile, brushing the boy's bangs out of his eyes with his free arm. Ryou giggled at the action, burying himself further into Bakura's shirt.

There was silence again, but only for a moment, because Ryou spoke up again, "Malik said it was gonna snow tonight. Do you think I'll have school if it does?"

"I doubt it," Bakura murmured, lips buried in the locks of Ryou's hair. "If it's cancelled, I'll take you out to the park or something so we can play, all right?"

"Really?" Ryou's smile was as wide as the sky. "Thanks, Kura."

"Hn, it's nothing," he murmured, unable to contain his smile. "You deserve more, but I'm afraid it's all I can give you, Ryou." Bakura sighed softly, ruffling Ryou's hair, and didn't give the child a chance to argue about the subject, "Good night, kid."

"Good night, Kura." Ryou smiled, placing a small kiss on his older brother's jaw, "I love you."

"I love you too."

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Chapter 2: End.


	3. A New Beginning

A/N: I hate writer's block. I'm having some problems pulling out new chapters, but I'm getting there, I promise!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

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It's like every time he finds me I'm always close to broken. Every single time he stumbles upon me, I'm always upset. And then, when he talks to me, I always cry. I can't bear to cry in front of people, to look or feel sad in any way, but when he shows his face, it's like all senses of doubt flee my mind, and I don't feel ashamed, or scared, to show my real emotions.

I try to stay as quiet as possible as I sit on the balcony, my knees hugged to my chest, and my chin lowered atop of them. I know if I make any noise, he'll surely appear. I wouldn't be able to handle crying right now, on a day like this.

I freeze, however, as I hear the slight creaking as the glass, sliding door is pushed open, followed by a voice saying, "What are you doing out here?"

My heart sinks. Why does he always find me when I'm so vulnerable and weak, every single time? It's not like I tell him where I am; in fact, it's more like I try to hide from him. I don't want him to find me, obviously. Why can't he just take a hint and leave me alone?

His light footsteps greet my ears, and then, suddenly, he's standing right beside me. Without words, he sits down beside me, stretching out his legs, which are several inches longer than mine. He splays his palms over the ground as he tilts his head up to the sky, staring up at the stars for the longest time, before he whispers, "It's cold out here."

I don't reply. I know it's true, however, for I'm shivering, and I had been ever since I set foot out here on the balcony nearly half an hour ago.

He sits up entirely, hunching over in a forward position, his eyes locked onto me. "Why don't you come inside? I can make you some cocoa, and you'd be a lot warmer, I'm sure…"

I merely shake my head, my throat feeling like it had closed up.

He sighs, and suddenly, he begins to rip his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, shedding it. He takes off his beautiful charcoal trench coat suddenly, and with a sad smile on his thin lips, he drapes it over me, pulling the sleeves over my naked arms, dressing me as if I was a toddler. Then, with his calloused fingers, he tucks a strand of my snowy hair behind my ear, and whispers, "I'll be inside, okay?"

He stands up then, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his pale blue jeans that hugged his thighs. With his coat off, he's now in nothing but a black tank top, and I can see the scars on his upper arms that trailed up and down, and were the remains of burns from the destruction of his village so many years ago…

It never seems to bother him, though. I've never seen him cry over it, or complain. I know sometimes he woke up from raging nightmares, but other than that, he shed no other words of the incident.

I watch him slide the door open, about to head in. My heart thuds in my chest, and desperate, I call out to him, "Wait."

He pauses, and turns to look at me with his crimson eyes that are void of emotion, despite the small smile on his lips.

"D… Don't leave," I choke out, feeling my eyes becoming wet. "P… Please…"

The smile fades from his mouth, and he obeys, coming towards me. He kneels down on his knees before me, his expression puzzled, but his eyes empty. "What is it? Do you need to talk about something?"

How can he always seem so innocent? What happened to the bloodthirsty, insane monster I used to know? What has he become? And how? After all those years, how could he suddenly just change?

And why couldn't _I_ change? Why did the past keep catching up to me?

Tears flood my own eyes as I stare into his, and he leans back, his crimson orbs going wide. "Oh, Ryou… Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't…"

The tears fall then, and I choke upon a sob, scooting away from him. I lower my head, not wanting for him to see me like this…

"Oh, Ryou…" he sighs softly, and leans forward, brushing the bangs from my teary eyes. I can barely see him from the moisture, and I sniff loudly, trembling. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you…"

I don't answer, too busy trying to withhold my tears to say anything back.

He sighs, and wraps his arms about me, hands placed at the small of my back. He pulls me close, forcing my head down so that it was pressed against his chest, and his strong but thin arms wrapped around my middle. And he just sits there, holding me tightly, as I struggle to calm down.

His skin is warm, despite the cold around us, and even though he had donated his coat to me. I press myself close to him, feeling a sudden sensation of comfort as he cradles me, gently rocking me back and forth.

But even with my senses of comfort I've retracted from him, it doesn't stop the pain I feel deep down in my heart.

I cry then, burying my forehead into the crook of his pale neck. I can feel his shallow breathing, so unlike mine, which is fast and uncontrollable as I sob.

"Shh, it's going to be okay, I promise," he whispers, rubbing small circles on my back. "It's okay, Ryou, I'm here…"

"It's not okay," I mumble, still crying, my voice muffled by his skin and clothing. "Why did they have to die, Bakura? I didn't want to lose them, I didn't…"

"Shh," he shushes me again, stroking my hair with his bony fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut entirely, sobbing into his neck. "It wasn't your fault, you couldn't stop it…"

I whimper, my fingers digging deep into the fabric of his black top, my fingertips brushing his wild locks of hair, which nearly reached his hips. "Why can't I just let it go? It's been nine years, so why does it still bother me…?"

He doesn't answer, his lips buried in my hair, his hands resting on my back.

"I don't want to remember," I choke out, my nails digging into his shirt, pricking his skin. "A-And yet I don't want to forget. W-Why does it have to be so complicated? Why does it still have to hurt, Bakura?"

I feel his muscled chest heave in a gentle sigh, and his arms tighten around me, his chin resting atop of my head. "Ryou… It's always going to hurt, whether you like it or not. Trust me, I would know… Even after all these years, it still hurts when I look back on it all, or when I think about the anniversary of that day… And I'm sure you feel the same way…"

I can feel my tears increasing with every sentence he speaks. Why does he always bring me down, making me cry? Why do I only cry when he speaks to me about my problems?

"Ryou… It's going to always hurt, but the pain will slowly decrease until it becomes nothing but a dull pain in your heart. But let me heed you a warning, little one. Even if the pain fades physically, there will still be scars, both physically…and mentally." I look up in time to see him flash me a small, sad smile, his crimson eyes suddenly giving off that of heartbrokenness. "The pain won't ever go away, Ryou."

He closes his crimson eyes, and his hands go to the rim of his tank top. I feel every muscle inside of me freeze in that moment, unable to tear my eyes away as he upraises his shirt.

He turns so that most of his back faces me, and I cup my hands over my mouth without realizing it. His entire backside is manifested with scars, so many they blended together in a vicious, ugly decoration that destroyed the man's skin.

I reach out, hesitantly, and place my fingers to the markings on his back, and slowly, _slowly, _I trace over them. The burns must have been severe to leave scarring this bad, and I swallow at the thought of the pain that must have came along with it all. My hand dips lower, tracing the markings, down from his shoulders to the little dip of his back, lower to the waistband of his jeans, and then, the scars vanish under the fabric, signaling there was even more to find under it.

"Bakura…" I pull back, my eyes watery. He just shrugs, and lowers his shirt, but I can see the sadness in his eyes. "Bakura, you-"

"You and I aren't so different, Ryou," he whispers, cutting me off as suddenly stands up. However, he offers me his hand, a tiny smile on his thin lips, "Come on. Let's go inside."

I sniff, unable to help but smile, and take his hand. He pulls me to my feet, pulling me close as the two of us make our way back to the sliding door. He opens it for me, and I murmur a thank you, but he waves it away like he always does.

He doesn't let go of me as he turns to close the door, and locks it. Then, with him still having me pulled close, we make our way towards the kitchen, our footsteps matched perfectly without us trying.

Then, he forces me to sit down in the rickety chair at the lonely table, and makes his way towards the cabinets, extracting two mugs and filling them with water. I can't help but smile at this, wiping away the remainder of my tears.

He makes the cocoa as he earlier promised, and then, when it's done, he gives me mine first, before taking a seat across from me. He sips at his quietly, so unlike his old mannerism of taking in food and drink like a starving animal.

"Does it taste okay?" he asks softly, his lips hovering above the rim of the forest green coffee mug.

I smile gently, and nod, closing my eyes as the warmth spreads through me. It's hard to hold onto the mug with his coat on, for the sleeves are much too long, so it hides my hands, but I make sure to be as careful as possible.

Then, I open my eyes and whisper, "Bakura?"

"Hmm?" His lips were placed again on the rim of the ceramic mug.

"Why did you change?" I ask suddenly, my fingers growing tight on the cup. "I mean, you used to be so…"

"…I was a monster, I know." He drinks from his mug once more, his mahogany eyes shut. "But… Anyone can change, even me. And it was only a few months ago I realized how stupid all of this was. I could barely even remember who I really was, why I was angry, or why I was even _here. _What was the point of it?

"So I told myself I'd change. If I changed, my life would change, for the better or for the worst. I wouldn't know until I tried. And what did I have left to lose?

"And then I realized, Ryou, I could lose you. I was such a monster, always hurting you… It dawned on me I was eventually going to put you on the brink, and then, as you toppled over… You would become just like me. And I didn't want that to happen to someone like you, Ryou. So I just threw the past away, and I… I wiped my slate clean, deciding I was going to start over."

He reached out, and grabs my hand in his, his palms rough with calluses and scars, and he smiles. "And you can do the same if you so desire. After all, you're eighteen… You're not a kid anymore… I'm sure you want to start with a fresh new slate as you begin your new life, don't you think?"

I sniffle slightly, and force myself to smile. He smiles back as he squeezes my hand a little, and then I realize everything he said was the truth. And it was at that very moment I figured out what I was going to do with myself…

"Bakura, I…" I sniff again, the thoughts of my family, people I deemed as friends but they were nothing more than acquaintances, school, work, relationships, and more all suddenly pouring into my brain. "I-I want to start over too."

And then, as he smiles gently at me like he always does, I see a spark of light return into those crimson eyes that had remained lifeless for so many years.

* * *

Chapter 3: End.


	4. Shadow of Myself

A/N: This oneshot is a little on the short side, but it just came to me and I felt like I needed to write it out, so, here it is.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

**

* * *

**_/All you are is a pawn. Stupid, weak, mere fodder… So come now, let me in. I'll make you stronger, untouchable. Isn't that what you want? To be strong enough to at least defend yourself? Just think, later who'll become stronger and stronger, and then you can wreak your revenge on those who have already hurt you./_

_No… No, go away… _He goes stock-still, eyes squeezing shut.

_/Don't be like that. Come on, you know I just want to help… Let me in, just a little bit so I can get this started… What could it hurt? It's not like you have anything to lose, you know./_

_No! _His back arches as he jerks suddenly in his seat, before he wraps his hands about the edge of the stool, so hard his fingers begin to discolor. _No, stop, go away… Get out, get out of my head…_

_/Then stop fighting./ _The amusement is gone from the other's voice, growing stricter. _/Listen to me, pawn, and obey your master. Let me in, or I'll force my way into my position./_

His fingernails claw at the plastic seat, eyes screwed shut so tightly he can see splotches of color. The noise of the other students is dim, as if he cannot hear any of it. The normal roar of the students in the cafeteria seems almost silent as he sits there, his clipped nails dragging over the plastic with as much force as he could possibly muster at this point.

Blood drips from one of his nails, which has bent back somewhat from his struggles. He begins to shake, lowering his head as that all-too-familiar sensation runs up his spine, knowing soon he would lose control.

_/I'm sick and tired of your games. Now stop resisting!/_

_NO! _The tingling in his back increases to a wave, and pain explodes in his temples as he struggles to block everything out. He begins to cry out softly, but even then he is mute, his voice unheard by all of the others. He cries out, clasping his hands about his ears as he lowers his head. _Get out of my head! Get out, get out! Leave me alone! I don't belong to you, I- _

"Bakura-kun?"

He stops, lowering his hands from the side of his head as he looks up. Tears swim in his eyes, and it's a struggle to see who's before him, but he recognizes the voice. "Y-Yuugi-kun?"

"Bakura-kun… Are you…all right?" the teen starts, setting his tray down on the tabletop, but does not sit.

"I… I'm fine," he whispers, ignoring the lone tear that escapes his right eye, and making sure to keep his gaze off of the food just before him. He hasn't eaten; cannot eat, for if he does the monster he knows within him will also be fed. "I just… I just didn't get very much sleep last night, and I have a pretty nasty headache."

And he forces a smile. It looks believable, his eyes somewhat growing reassuring as his lips stretch.

The teen before him hesitates, and seems like more words are going to be shed, but the sound of an approaching argument causes an interruption.

He sits there quietly for the longest time, watching and listening the blonde and the brunette argue, while the tri-colored teen struggled to pull them apart.

He carefully slips away from the table, and hurries into the bathroom that resides on the corner of the hallway, abandoning the others. He pads inside, first making sure it was empty before deciding to start anything.

His hands, pale and thin, go to the hem of his uniform, and carefully, he begins to work the buttons apart, successfully unfastening them. More and more of the royal blue coat opens, revealing that of pale flesh along the way. There is a flash of gold, the pendant hanging against his chest, warm against him.

He stares into the mirror, before he looks down again, and traces a finger over the antique hanging about his throat.

_/What's on your mind? You've been quiet./_

_I… I wasn't…_He jumps, quickly releasing the pendant.

_/Why did you leave the presence of the others, when you know being alone with me is something you do not wish?/_

_I thought you…forgot about me… _He swallows uncomfortably.

_/Oh, don't worry, I haven't forgotten where we left off. Those little brats had to go and interrupt our little 'quality time'. But now I have you all to myself…/_

_No… Please, leave me alone… _He grabs hold of the sink, knowing it wouldn't be long before he would fall in to the other's control.

_/I'm afraid not./_

_I'm sorry! _He cries out, loudly, his knees feeling weak under him, and his vision blurs as his head spins. _P-Please… Yami-sama, I'm sorry…_

_/You already failed to comply. I'm not going easy on you, Yadonushi./_

He chokes back a scream as his vision violently twirls, an explosion crashing through his confused brain, numbing him. He vaguely feels the damp tiles of the bathroom under him, and it is seconds before it goes black.

It's mere seconds before he stands again, but this time, chocolate eyes are red and snowy hair is no longer tamed. He merely dusts himself off, and grins at the mirror, before refastening the bright buttons of the uniform hung over his muscular frame, and calmly makes his way out of the bathroom and back towards the cafeteria.

"Bakura-kun, why didn't you tell us you were leaving? We didn't know where you went!"

"Sorry, Yuugi-kun, I just had a few things to take care of," the man whispers gently, his voice in a believable imitation. Then, he smiles, molding himself to appear as similar to his other as he possibly can.

And they buy it, each and every one of them. They flash smiles back, and then he merely leans back in his chair, smirking slightly. Fools, all of them.

_I may as well be you, Ryou Bakura. They believe me more than they do you, their own friend… _He touches softly at his chest, fingers brushing the pendant under his jacket. _You may as well be the shadow, my little pawn._

_

* * *

_

Chapter 4: End.


	5. The Cost of Happiness

A/N: About time I updated this fic, huh? Sorry it took a while but I didn't have any oneshot ideas until a day or two ago, and then this came along. I'm sorry if it's a bit short... And it's also a strange oneshot, and somewhat confusing... I hope you enjoy it anyway, though!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

I quietly slide the lock out of its cradle, unlatching the door and sliding the structure open. I slip inside, closing it after myself before I take a good look at you. You sit, obviously terrified, in the corner, cloaked with darkness. I do not understand why you do this when the rest of the room is bright. Not only that, but you are not bound, cuffed, blindfolded, or gagged… You have no restraints, and I have never hurt you… So why are you giving me that look?

I approach you, and you freeze, securing your arms about yourself and raise your legs to your chest, as if you need protection.

I go closer, shifting the materials in my arms. I kneel down before you, and extend the package towards you. You stare for a long time, and then look up at me. Your eyes show distrust and fear.

"Your clothes are dirty. You need to change into these so I can wash the ones you're wearing." I hand you the little bundle of clothing, which you take with reluctance. "I need you to go ahead and change… Don't worry, I won't look."

I do as I promised I would, and look away. There's a brief period of silence before I hear you shift as you decide to stand up. I still keep my eyes averted, but I can hear everything you're doing. Your clothing rustles as it touches, and I watch as your old shirt is flung to the ground beside me, followed by your other forms of clothing. As your pants finally come to the floor I turn around to find you standing in the corner with your head down low, and your arms wrapped protectively around your waist. I feel my eyes narrow at this, and I growl, "Put your arms down."

You obey slowly, and I smile at your appearance. Your new clothes, a pair of pale blue cotton pajamas, are obviously cleaner, and they smell a whole lot better. You have already buttoned the shirt all the way up to your neck, and I notice your Adam's apple shift just above it as you swallow nervously, not looking me in the eyes. I can feel your nervousness, and this causes my smile to melt away.

"…You aren't happy." I state, tilting my head slightly to one side as I try to get a glimpse of your eyes, but they are downcast. I frown, reaching out, and placing both of my heads on either side of your head. You cringe at this, and begin to shake, whispering something under your breath, as if you wish for someone to save you from danger. "I don't understand you."

I lower my hands and take a step back, placing them into the back pockets of my jeans as I take a good look across the enclosed room. There's plenty of light in the room at the moment. At ten o' clock at night they go off and they come back on around nine the next morning, to make sure you have some darkness so you can get some sleep. It's clean in here as well. I have given you an actual mattress to sleep on and plenty of blankets. I feed you three meals a day and do what I can to give you an education, although what I can instruct you of is limited. I give you what you want to keep you happy, most of which are material possessions. But even after I'll given you, you are not satisfied.

"What more do you want?" I breathe, advancing a pace. You flinch in a response. "I've given you all I can, so why aren't you happy?"

With your back against the wall, you whisper, "Freedom."

I blink at this; after all, it was the first thing you've said to me in nearly a week. I smile slightly at your voice, which trembles slightly with uncertainty and fear. Then, my smile grows as I realize what you had just said. "Freedom? Oh, but that is something I can never give you-"

"Then I will never be happy," you murmur in that heartbroken voice again.

I hesitate a little, debating on what to say to object. "Look, I would give you freedom if I could… But there are things beyond this room I cannot control. I do not wish for you to be contaminated by others, polluted by other humans… I do not wish for you to interact in their meaningless and dangerous lives, and contract their personalities and behaviors. I wish for you to be the same and keep you clean forever. I do not wish to risk losing you."

"This isn't supposed to be about you," you say softly, lowering your head more, and I hear what sounds like a sniff escape you. "All you care about is yourself. If you 'cared' so much you wouldn't be cutting me off from the one thing that I need the most to stay sane…"

"They will hurt you," I murmur, not budging from my decision. "And merely being flung out into that world will only hurt you… You will not maintain sanity; you will in fact lose it. How else do you think I became what I am?"

You raise your head, and I see tears in the very back of your eyes. You swallow, and take fast steps towards me, and to my surprise, you fling your arms about me. I feel myself freeze at the unexpected contact, and I suddenly feel a bizarre wetness overtaking my neck. I quickly realize you are crying on me, not caring about what you are doing. I gasp softly as your fingernails suddenly dig into my back; I was not expecting this. Untrimmed, they may have remained rounded, but they are long and sharp, and they draw blood as they claw through my white shirt and into my skin.

"P-Please… B…Bakura-sama, please…" You sob uncontrollably, dragging your nails down my back, and I hiss softly in mild pain. I can feel blood forming on my skin, and I try to shake you off, but you won't budge. "Bakura-sama…"

I push you away, and you stagger back, bumping into the wall. Your sobbing does not cease, and you collapse onto the floor on your rear. I watch you in a mild disgust, for even though the sight of your tears excites me mildly, I do not enjoy the rough gasps and irritating noises that come along.

I sigh heavily, running my fingers through my bangs in thought. I do not wish to do this, but maybe now you'll learn the hard way. "Fine. I'll let you out, just this once, but never again."

Near instantly, your sobbing quiets down to mere sniffles, and you smile up at me, just slightly. "B-Bakura-sama-"

"Be quiet," I hiss, roughly grabbing you by the back of the shirt. I easily snatch you off the ground and proceed to fling you over my shoulder. I growl slightly in warning at your movements, and you proceed to fall still.

I feel your fingers tracing a pattern on the shoulder of my jacket, and I frown slightly as I climb the black-polished stairs, towards the main floor. I block you out as I go upstairs, and weave through the darkened abode until I reach the front door. I fish the key out of my pocket, and proceed to unlock the door.

I squint slightly at the noontime sunlight. I set you down then, and you turn with your mouth open to speak to me, but you freeze at the sight before you. You instantly run out and practically leap down the ten concrete steps before racing out into the open.

I am much slower than you. I upraise the collar of my coat, despite the warmth of the sun. I slam the door shut behind me and trudge down the steps, before taking my stance at the base of them, watching you.

You're acting so childish. I hate it how you roll around in the grass laughing and how you suddenly take notice of every little detail of the world. I hate how attracted you are of the animals and the flowers, and that twinkle you get in your eyes whenever you notice something.

You collapse onto your back in the grass, and I hear you sigh in pleasure. You sit up seconds later, and shake your head, getting the strands out green material out of your hair. You turn to look at me, and signal for me to come closer.

I approach, eventually making my way over, and I take a hesitant seat next to you. You give me that happy-go-lucky smile of yours, your head automatically tilting to one side. "Thank you, Bakura-sama."

I don't answer, staring up into the sky.

"Bakura-sama? Are you okay?" You ask, leaning towards me. I growl in warning, glaring at you. You look away quickly, silenced.

"I'm fine," I mutter. "Just thinking."

"About what?" You ask again, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Nothing. Leave me alone," I snarl, getting up. I begin to stalk off, but you suddenly wrap your hands about the legging of my jeans, holding me back. My gaze practically rips through you as I glare harshly into your face, and you appear frightened, but don't let go.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, "I just wanted to thank you again."

"…Hn." I look away from you. "Whatever."

This seems to satisfy you, for you let go. You go back to staring at the green and blue world about us, with that dreamy smile on your face. I go back to the porch and sit down on the top step, and watch you from where I sit.

Sometimes I did wish I had a carefree mind like you, even though I wouldn't ever admit to it.

* * *

Chapter 5: End.


	6. Precious Treasure

A/N: Thanks to the reviewers! And I'm sorry this oneshot is a little on the short side...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

The thief sighed heavily, dragging bony fingers through his long bangs. He slumped against the stone wall, eyes dull as he stared at the floor.

The floor of the soul room was covered with gems. Glimmering golden and silver bracelets, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and even diamonds… They were littered at his feet, covering the cold, black tile. And yet, despite their worth and their beautiful appearance… Bakura felt no attraction to them. He didn't want it, none of it, at all.

Weak cries, despite their gentleness, seemed to be pounding against the man's eardrums. Bakura groaned softly, resting his head against the stone wall. _He's been crying in there for nearly an hour… When is he going to stop?_

The demon sighed as he climbed to his feet. Stepping over the mass collection of jewels and so-called 'precious' objects, he made his way towards the door. He took the cold, silver handle into one hand, before pushing the structure open, revealing the short, dim hall.

And then, the demon saw him. The child's room was directly across from his own. The door – made of glimmering steel like his own - was always open, allowing chunks of light to flow out and spill onto the white tile of the hallway.

And from his spot, he could see him perfectly. The child sat just before the doorway, and yet his back faced it; his form was hunched over, the little boy shaking violently as sobs ripped through him… He raised an arm to wipe at his eyes, rubbing the tears away on the sleeve of his blue and white striped shirt, but the tears wouldn't stop. The boy was mumbling what sounded like reassuring statements to himself, as if he was desperately trying to prove to himself it was nothing more than a hideous nightmare instead of life…

The spirit sighed, and in a mere two strides, made it to the doorway. His footsteps echoed loudly, and as he came to a halt, a mere few inches away, it was then the child tried to silence himself, and yet his trembling had begun to increase…

Slowly, the child turned his head, eyes raising to stare into the demon's own.

The man stayed still for a moment, crimson eyes locked with the child's. The doe-brown eyes were still overflowing tears, pale cheeks stained with the salty substance. The boy's eyelids were red-rimmed, swollen, and he continued to tremble at the demonic spirit's feet. "B… Bakura-sama," he whispered tearfully, chin trembling as he struggled to hold the cries and whimpers in, "I-I'm sorry… I'm s-so sorry…"

Bakura blinked merely once, his expression remaining blank. Then, with a swift movement, he crouched down before the boy, and reached out with one hand.

The child recoiled, letting out a whimper, "I-I'm sorry! P-Please… B-Bakura-sama, please… _Please… _D-Don't hit me again…"

Bakura blinked once as he stared at the boy. The child had his eyes squeezed shut, causing tears to escape past closed eyelids. And yet, there was a look of fear plastered upon his face. Bakura stood there for a long moment, his eyes catching onto that of an ugly black bruise fading away into pale skin upon the child's shoulder.

Bakura crouched down at the boy's side, lips pursed into a thin line, before clasping a hand onto the top of the boy's head. His pale fingers ruffled the child's fluffy white hair, and he exhaled heavily, breath coming out in a near snort, before muttering, "I'm not angry."

Chocolate eyes cracked open, meeting that of crimson. "W… What?" he breathed, unable to believe what had just came out of the man's mouth. He didn't believe the man was telling the truth; to Ryou, it just seemed like another twisted trick to get him into even more trouble…

"You heard me," Bakura muttered. "I said I'm not angry, so quit cowering."

"Y… You're not going to hit me?" he whispered, voice trembling. "B-But Bakura-sama, y-you said…"

"Shut it," Bakura interrupted in the gentlest voice he could, cutting the child short. "Forget about all that. This is different…"

"W-What do you mean?" Ryou asked in a tearful whisper, still trembling despite Bakura's words.

"Who do you take me for, Ryou? I'm not stupid," the man replied with a snort. "I haven't seen you all day, and since you can't put up barricades on your mind yet, I know everything that goes in that head of yours."

Ryou paled then, tears spilling over again. "Y-You…"

Terror was pouring from Ryou's mind, and Bakura swallowed, trying his hardest to seem sympathetic, "You were thinking about them again, Ryou. I know that… You just want to see them again…"

"B-Bakura-sama," the child whispered, voice shaking. "H-How-"

"I told you already," Bakura muttered, "I know everything that goes on around here."

Harsh sobs erupted from the child at his feet then, and Ryou broke into a new waterfall of tears. The salty droplets raced down ivory cheeks, and he started gasping for breath, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Chocolate eyes squeezed closed, causing more tears to pour from his eyes, the crystal drops clinging to dark eyelashes.

Bakura sighed, and reached out, almost hesitantly, wrapped his arms about the child. To his surprise, Ryou didn't pull away; instead, he practically flung himself against the man's body, burying his face into Bakura's black tee shirt.

Small fingers buried into dark clothing, Ryou's hands balling into fists about Bakura's shirt. Tears began to wet the front as Ryou sobbed into the fabric, shaking.

Bakura sighed again, heavier this time, as he made a move to stand. Since Ryou wouldn't release his shirt, he had no choice but to pick the child up.

Ryou sniffed, weakly lifting his head upwards to look into the man's eyes. "B-Bakura-sama…"

"Shush," Bakura walked across the small soul room, carefully stepping over the mass pile of toys lying across the tiled floor, making his way over to the small bed, and sat down, the child resting upon the mattress at his side.

However, Ryou's tears didn't stop. Instead, his actions merely continued.

Bakura exhaled deeply, rolling his eyes in irritation, "Come on, Ryou, stop crying," he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. It was hard enough doing a pitying act, but Ryou crying was also getting on his nerves.

Ryou sniffled loudly, finally removing his face from the folds of Bakura's shirt, wiping at his eyes with the back of one hand, doing his best in wiping the tears away. His eyes rose to the man, and Bakura noted his chocolate eyes were red-rimmed and swelling rapidly. "I-I'm sorry, Bakura-sama," the boy whispered tearfully, hiccupping once. "I… I just…"

"You just miss them," Bakura finished, albeit softly.

"H… How did you know that?" Ryou whispered, gazing into Bakura's eyes, which he noticed were averted. "B-Bakura-sama?"

"Look, kid… It may not seem like it right now, but you and I do have something in common."

At first, the only reaction Ryou gave off was a few confused blinks. Then, in realization, his reddened eyes widened, "B… Bakura-sama, you… Your…?"

"Yes, kid, my parents died… Killed, actually," Bakura replied, shrugging inwardly. "All the people in my village were murdered before the place was burned to the ground-"

"W-Weren't you scared?" Ryou blurted out, the nine-year-old's eyes wide. "D-Did you cry, like me?"

Bakura blinked once in surprise, staring at the boy for a long moment; yet all he could see was innocence and confusion, and teardrops lacing pale skin…

Bakura shrugged then, clasping a bony hand atop the child's head, fingers burying into snowy hair. "I guess you could say I was too scared to cry about it at the time."

"B-But Bakura-sama, you said you aren't scared of anything," Ryou protested, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

"I used to," the man confessed. "But I got over it. You can't spend your entire life living in fear, so stop worrying. Your family is gone, and they're fine. You need to start worrying about yourself, Yadonushi."

Ryou blinked in surprise as his darkness suddenly stood up from the small bed, and without another word, he tried to walk away. However, Ryou scrambled to the edge of the bed, before snagging the back of the man's shirt in a small hand. The moment he did so, however, Bakura stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling around so he could stare at the boy.

"Please… Bakura-sama, don't leave me…" Small fingers tightened upon the dark fabric. "Please…"

Bakura sighed then, "Only if you stop groveling and sit still."

Ryou nodded, and released his hold. Bakura proceeded to sit down upon the mattress at the child's side. Ryou scrambled to the other side, and lay down.

Bakura rolled his eyes, and flopped down upon his side next to the child.

They lay like that for a long time, still and quiet. It was then Bakura realized the child at his side had fallen asleep. At first, the man was about to get up, but what else would he have to do? His soul room was empty of life and activity, and what would he have to entertain himself? All that sat there was treasure he didn't really want… After all those years of being locked away in the golden trinket, the last thing he wanted to be close to was riches.

Bakura decided to sit still and wait. After all, Ryou _was _his host, and far more precious than the gems littering his soul room floor.

Suddenly, Ryou shuffled closer to him in his sleep, tiny hands linking about the fabric of his shirt as he pressed himself against the man. "Yami…"

Bakura blinked in shock at the sudden closeness, especially at Ryou's sudden whisper, which had greatly taken him by surprise. He resisted the urge to pull away, or rather to push Ryou away from _him, _before he let out a small sound of uncertainty. Then, although hating himself for it, the man laced his arms about Ryou and pulled the child close.

Ryou sighed, content, in his sleep, cuddling up to the man, a small smile on his lips and his pale hands entwined in the spirit's shirtfront.

"You'll eventually be able to think of your family without so much pain," Bakura whispered, brushing Ryou's bangs out of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile, just slightly. "So just sleep well for now, little Yadonushi."

* * *

Chapter 6: End.


	7. I Will Not Let You Fall

A/N: My summer break has begun! Woo-hoo!

Anyway, I was in a very fluff-craving mood when I wrote this... There's probably some angst lurking around in here occasionally, but hopefully not a whole bunch. Anyway, since it's fluffy, people are bound to be out of character, but who cares?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

"There we go. I think you should be okay now." Bakura gave a rare, small smile to the other male, patting his bandaged kneecap in the process. "You're just lucky I got there when I did."

Ryou was silent for a long time, staring down at his bandage-coated leg. The white wraps were wrapped tightly about his knee, preventing him from moving the said limb correctly. But even then, he felt guilty. Here he was with a meager slice in the knee as a result of the fight, while Bakura…

"Ryou?" The said male looked up at his name, his eyes meeting Bakura's own brown ones. The man had his head tilted to one side - which he always did when he was curious – and his muddy orbs were open wide with question. "You okay?"

Ryou didn't say anything; he merely looked back down at his bandage kneecap. He couldn't stand to look at Bakura's gauze-covered face, to see his well-bandaged torso and hands, or the taped down strip of cloth hiding underneath Bakura's bangs that successfully covered a gash…

"Hey…" Ryou jerked as arms suddenly wrapped about him, pulling him close in an embrace. Pink rose into ivory cheeks as Ryou realized what had just happened, and he felt suddenly embarrassed. "Ryou, come on… Talk to me…"

Ryou bit his lip as he noticed Bakura's hands resting about him, clad in so many bandages they looked more like gloves. He shook his head, ducking his skull beneath Bakura's chin so that the other man couldn't see his face.

He heard Bakura sigh, but the other did not move. He merely held Ryou in place, silent.

Ryou bit his lip harder, lowering his eyes onto his kneecap again. Memories poured fresh into his brain, and he felt moisture gather in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He sat there quietly, feeling Bakura's chest slowly rising and falling against his arm as the man held him, breathing rhythmically. He could hear the repetitive _thump _inside the man's ribcage as his heart kept beating; the man's organ easily drowned out the sound of his own heartbeat.

"I'm so sorry," Ryou suddenly whispered, resting his head against the elder man's neck. He closed his eyes, a small sniffle escaping him as he tried not to cry.

"Why?" Bakura didn't object to Ryou's movements; instead, he merely lowered his head atop of Ryou's, letting his chin rest upon his snowy hair. "You have no reason to say you're sorry…"

"You had to fight for me again… And I escaped with a little cut while you got hurt…" Ryou gave a pathetic little sniff, his hands curling up into near fists as he sat there. He felt Bakura's hands snake tighter about his slightly trembling figure. His bandage-wrapped hands buried tightly into his white shirt, and although Ryou couldn't see it, Bakura smiled a little.

"It's not like I would let those men hurt you," Bakura whispered, pulling Ryou closer. "I told you that I don't care if I get hurt… I want to protect you, remember?"

"B… But…" Ryou lifted his head slightly, his mocha orbs widening as Bakura suddenly cupped a bandage-wound hand over his lips, successfully silencing him.

The man smiled gently, drawing his hand back after a few seconds. "Ryou… Listen to me carefully. I don't care about what I get into… If it's to protect you, I'll gladly to it, okay? I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I let you get hurt…"

Ryou bit his lip, struggling to think of something to say. He felt his heart pumping faster with embarrassment, and his face felt warm… He ducked his head quickly, hoping Bakura hadn't noticed.

Bakura just smiled to himself, not mentioning Ryou's deep flush of obvious embarrassment. It amused the man to see his hikari like this, for he always grew so shy, which was nothing like the Ryou he knew…

"Are you going to be okay?" Ryou asked a minute or two later, having recovered himself. He raised his head to stare up into the man's face, noticing Bakura's mud-colored eyes seemed amused.

"I heal quickly," Bakura said with a smile, raising one hand then and clasping it atop of Ryou's head, gently ruffling his snowy locks, noticing that near instantly a streak of crimson invaded Ryou's pale face.

Ryou looked away suddenly, as if unsure of something. Bakura's smile faded away then as he stared down at the teenager, but he did not move.

Ryou bit his lip. In the stillness he could again hear Bakura's heartbeat, and although it was somewhat comforting, he didn't like it. It reminded him of things he didn't want to remember…

_Ragged pants escaped Bakura's lips as he laid there, cradled in Ryou's arms. Blood swelled and inched down from his forehead, shirtfront blossomed crimson…_

Bakura was silent as he stared down at the younger male, who had begun to tremble. Bakura sighed mutely as he noticed the tears glistening in his eyes…

_He pulled him closer, closer; Bakura gave that trademark smile of his, leaning into Ryou's embrace, not noticing the pink sneaking onto his cheeks…_

_Silence… Ryou could hear Bakura's deep breathing, but his heartbeat seemed so much louder… Terribly loud… It drowned out his own pulse without a second thought… Repetitive and calm it went, deep inside the man's ribcage…_

"Ryou…" Bakura nibbled softly on his bruised lower lip as a little river of tears began to pry free from Ryou's eyes. The man sighed, hugging Ryou tighter. This time, the boy had no reaction.

"_I'm fine, Ryou… Just a little banged up…" Again, he flashed his trademark smile, not allowing the pain to affect him. "I'm just glad you're okay."_

"_But you're hurt," Ryou choked out through his sobs, tears overflowing terrified brown eyes. "T-This is all my fault…"_

"_No, it isn't," Bakura's smile grew wider. Gripping Ryou by the shoulder, he stiffened, slowly but surely forcing himself to his feet. Hunched over with an arm securely wrapped about his blood-soaked torso, Bakura offered his free, slightly bloodied hand to the traumatized boy at his feet._

_After a bit of hesitation, Ryou took it, and with a smile, Bakura helped him stand. Slowly, and careful to mask his pain, Bakura unwrapped his arm from about his middle, grabbing Ryou's other hand._

_Suddenly, he hefted the boy up and into his arms, biting his lip in the process. Blood gushed forth from the wound slicing up his middle, causing his shirt to blossom further with red…_

Bakura pressed harder, trying to get Ryou to react, but the boy didn't, his eyes glazed over as Bakura practically smothered him in a warm embrace…

"_Put me down!" Ryou cried, trying to leap down from the man's hold, but Bakura refused to let him escape._

"_I can't let you do that," Bakura whispered, struggling forward a pace. He swallowed a gasp of pain as he felt his stomach practically contract, and blood again burst from his wound. "Your knee is-"_

"_I can't let you do this to yourself!" Ryou suddenly screamed, tears glimmering in pain-filled brown orbs. "You're hurt worse than me, and I'm not going to let you hurt yourself more because of me!"_

"I let you get hurt," Ryou whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. Tears began to near flow from his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Bakura…"

"You did nothing wrong," Bakura murmured back, lips buried in Ryou's amazingly soft hair as he held the trembling teenager close to himself. "I told you, Ryou… I wouldn't care how much I got hurt, so long as I don't let you fall down…"

"You wouldn't be in this mess if I fought them back," Ryou choked out, trying really hard not to cry in front of the man. "It's my fault… I let them do this…"

"You were waiting for me to pick you up from school like always, Ryou… And four of them approached you at once… There was nothing else you could've done…" Bakura rubbed the teen's back as Ryou ducked his head, crying roughly into the juncture of the man's neck. "You couldn't have fought all of them yourself…"

"I didn't try hard enough," Ryou sobbed out, wrapping his arms about the man, sniffling pathetically. He could again feel Bakura's heartbeat, and it drowned out his own again without question…

"It doesn't matter. None of it does," Bakura said gently, squeezing Ryou as if he was a stuffed animal. "All that matters is that you're safe and I have you back…"

"B… Bakura…" Ryou felt Bakura smile, as his skin shifted slightly whilst pressed against his own.

The man pulled back slightly, but did not remove Ryou from his warm hug. He again ruffled Ryou's snowy hair, a near beam crossing his swollen lips. He laughed slightly at Ryou's embarrassed flush, and again pulled the boy close.

And as he felt Bakura's chest rise and fall against his own, his heartbeat drowning his own, his breath barely touching his skin, Ryou smiled, just slightly, through his tears, and let his head rest against the juncture of the man's neck.

Bakura just smiled.

* * *

Chapter 7: End.


	8. Shards of Broken Glass

A/N: It's harder to come up with oneshots than for story plots in my case. Not just that, but I'm back in school now, so there's been less time for fanfiction. My apologies.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

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Everywhere I turn; there are always pieces of glass about me. No matter when or where I go I cannot escape. My eyes always meet my reflection, and in the end, there is you. I cannot escape the shards of glass, nor can I escape you, for you _are _the glass.

I'm always running. It's a meager two thirty in the morning, and I sprint down the main street of town, jewelry, crumpled dollar bills, and credit cards bursting from my pockets. Shards of glass burn my skin from where you broke into the home of the innocent, forcing me to steal whatever your heart desires. Weekly you target a home, and use my body as your machine. You break the windows in and climb inside, helping yourself to whatever you want to claim as your own. Then, as you fill your pockets to the brim, you return my control, and I am forced to make the escape for you.

The glass crunches under my feet as I hurry out of the home, carrying your precious cargo with my life for it bears my prints. I race home and dump your stolen goods to the ground, and go to patch myself up yet again. I stand in the bathroom, removing the shards of glass that are broken into my flesh. With every piece I remove, I see your face.

I go to the shower and wash myself, struggling to erase the dirtiness only a thief can feel. I cannot remove the grime you have tatted onto my skin, however. I hastily cut off the flow of scalding hot water, climbing gingerly from the steaming shower. I hurry to the bathroom sink, using the mirror above it to gaze at my reflection, like I always do.

All I see is you. Your twisted smirk, your wild hair, and those haunting eyes you have learned to petrify me with. Again, I reel back, slamming my already injured fist into the mirror, successfully shattering the glass beneath my knuckles. Blood spurts free and the glass crumbles to the counter, also protruding from my flesh.

I make a move to clean the fresh wounds, but I hear your laughter in the back of my mind, and just as suddenly, I lose all feeling in my limbs. You have taken control of my arms and legs, and leave me in control of the rest of my body.

You pick up a chunk of glass, carelessly pulling it across my scarred skin. You only have control of my limbs; I still feel the pain. I hiss as a throbbing begins under my skin, blood dribbling down from the cut.

You slice more and more, harder and harder, rubies trailing down my shredded flesh. You release the glass suddenly, and allow it to break further as it crashes onto the countertop. You leave me alone to clean my wounds.

I again do not look at the glass around me as I clean myself up again. I do not wish to be reminded of you any more than I have to.

I wrap my hands in thick white bandages, and I can no longer use my fingers individually. I have made my way into my bedroom, staring at the sea of stolen valuables covering the cream carpet. I sink to the floor, digging through the mountain of materials before managing to pull out a handful of gems and jewels. I sort through the little pile in my hand before I notice a bloody ruby residing in my palm. I dump the other goods to the floor, not caring about anything else.

It is the color of _your _eyes; the color of _my _blood as you carelessly spill it week after week. I raise the gem, pressing it gingerly against my lips. It is icy, feeling like a mound of snow. I wonder if _your _skin is this cold.

My stomach makes an odd rumble, and I realize that I have yet to eat today. I separate the gem from the others, leaving it isolated from the piles. My legs are shaky as I slowly stand up, and make my way towards the kitchen.

I walk slowly, almost afraid. I do not know what to expect from you. After all, you are unpredictable, psychotic…

I hobble towards the refrigerator, my body aching from the day's activity of robbery. I open the door, taking a brief glimpse of the contents before I reach inside, my bandaged hand going for one of the fruits that look so appealing to me.

Suddenly, my hand stops, and I quickly realize you have again taken my body as your own. Your hand dips down a few shelves, picking up one of the tightly bound packages of meat, somehow managing to hold onto it despite the bandages. Then, with your other hand, you grab a bottle from the top shelf, holding it round the neck. You kick the door closed, and return control to me.

I glance briefly down at the materials in my hands. I am not surprised to find the meat, and even less shocked at the beer bottle dangling in my left hand.

I know you want it. That's all it is, is for you. You do not care that _I _am starving; you merely want your own hunger to be satisfied. Yet, I cannot escape you, and I merely obey your commands in fear of what you would do if I disobey.

I cook the meat before popping the cap off the glass bottle. I hobble towards the table and set the materials down before I pull out a chair, and sit. Just as suddenly, my arms and legs go numb yet again. I merely watch as you take the fork and stab into the piece of meat, before lifting the entire slab off the plate. It drips slightly as you put it to my lips, and then, my lips grow cold.

Although you have control in order to feast, I can still see and hear, and feel otherwise. You tear into the slab with your teeth, a sickening rip occurring in the process. Through my eyes I can see everything you are doing, and it's disgusting. I feel something dribble down my chin, but I cannot move. You again tear into your meal, eating as if you are going to die of starvation at any second.

You throw the fork down, and your hand goes for the bottle of liquor residing near my elbow. You grab it, and drink deeply, as if it was the sweetest thing you've ever tasted.

My throat aches in rebellion, anything but enjoying the sharpness of the alcohol. You have eaten too fast, and my stomach aches uneasily. Then again, you are nothing more than an animal, and I cannot expect you to eat like anything less than that.

My limbs tingle as my control returns, and I hear you chuckle darkly in the back of my skull. My hand tightens on the beer bottle in my fist, although I hadn't noticed it was there until now. You laugh harder at my reaction, obviously satisfied.

I scream at you, throwing the bottle to the floor. It shatters in an instant, amber liquid spilling over the ugly tile. You are in hysterics, your laughter pounding against my eardrums. I screech at you as loud as I can, gripping my hair in my bandaged hands. If only you understood how much you torture me.

Yet… Perhaps you do. That is why you continue to do so; you know it gets the best of me.

I am aware I cannot win against you. Defeated, I sink to the floor, and begin to collect the shards of glass. One brief glance, at I see your face. My hand tightens on the pieces of sharp material, and I nearly cut myself. I struggle to calm myself down. It seems like no matter what I do, I cannot escape.

Everywhere I turn there's glass… Glass that always ends up broken. It's all because of _you_. And in the broken glass, I see _you. _You are the glass, and I cannot escape _you._

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Chapter 8: End.


	9. Existence

A/N: Almost time for Thanksgiving break. Can't wait.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews everyone! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

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He sputtered, barely able to see straight. Unable to fight back, he curled up in self-defense as the bat was slammed over him, again and again. He cried out, bruising, bleeding, bones breaking.

The sobbing was loud in his ears as there was a sickening _crack _as the weapon smashed into his kneecap. He howled in pain, struggling to crawl away, but a hand held him back.

"I hate you!" Another whack, this time against the back. "I _hate _you!"

"Y-Yadonushi," the victim spluttered, a spray of saliva spilling onto the soiled carpet as he struggled to breathe properly. His body lurched as the bat, again, came crashing down on him.

"Don't _call me that!" _he roared, his sobbing growing harsher. "You should've stayed gone! No one wants you here, you grimy _thief!"_

It hurt worse than the beating he was enduring. The sturdier man screamed as he felt a bone shatter in his leg. He was coated in bruises…

"How do _you _like it?!" his attacker screeched, adrenaline beginning to wear short. "Y… You're going to feel all the pain you dealt to me previously…"

"R-Ryou," he wheezed, looking up slowly. He was crumpled on the carpet; a pathetic looking being. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he was suddenly kicked in the ribcage.

Those eyes no longer held the innocence he remembered. The man swallowed thickly, blinded by pain. Ryou, his old host… He had _changed. _Eight years had passed and he had grown into a handsome young man of twenty-four. His height had increased, but he was still thin as a rake, his messy, snowy hair flowing down his back, longer than the thief remembered.

And yet… Those _eyes. _Brown pools that were once bursting with innocence and hope were dead. They were empty, almost hateful, shrunken in slightly with misery and hostility.

His old host was broken now.

_Did I cause this? _It was the first thought that occurred in his mind. Coughing violently, the man struggled to sit up, only to be whacked again by the bat, held in old host's pale hands.

"Look at _Bakura," _Ryou spat, crouching down to the man's level. "Pathetic. And you claimed to be the king of thieves? I think not. The king wouldn't have been this _weak_."

_And the normal Ryou would never act like this. _Bakura cracked the tiniest grin, blood trickling down his forehead. "D-Don't be stupid. I could _still _break you in half, Yadonushi-"

Bakura was cut short, the thief watching Ryou's eyes flash, before the baseball bat came smashing down on him, this time on his hands. He howled, jerking back, bones already swollen.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again," Ryou hissed, looming over the man. "After all, wasn't I always _nameless _to you anyway?"

Bakura's eyes widened slightly when Ryou stepped closer. His previous host's behavior was so strange, but… It was partially, deep down, what Bakura always _wanted _him to be. No more of those _pointless _tears, that pathetic groveling… It no longer existed. Yet… This was a bit far.

"Get up!" Ryou bellowed, whacking Bakura again, deftly across his broad shoulders. Bakura growled deep in his throat, although it was weak. Ryou's frown deepened at this. "If you want to fight, get off the _floor _and fight!"

Ryou's arms were numb by now, his adrenaline exhausted. Still, he didn't dare back down. Bakura made a move to sit up, but Ryou didn't let him, smashing him repeatedly with the bat. On the third round, Bakura's hand shot up, shackling about the wooden object, successfully holding it in place.

"I am not _afraid _of you, Ryou," Bakura snarled, glowering up at the young man, blood glistening on his pale face.

"I don't care if you _fear _me or not," Ryou hissed back. "I just want you _gone. _Now get out, you _mutt-"_

Bakura's eyes flashed, anger taking over his pain. He snatched the bat out of Ryou's hand, and threw it aside, out of reach. In mere seconds, he rose to his feet, and tackled the man, knocking him to the hardwood flooring. He clambered atop of Ryou, straddling his waist. Under him, the young man struggled, powerless against the spirit.

Bakura's hands went to Ryou's shirt, his bony fingers tracing the buttons. He didn't bother to work them, currently too angry and impatient. He merely ripped the fabric apart, watching buttons go flying, and Ryou's screams pounding against his eardrums. Bakura tore the piece of evergreen fabric off the boy, tossing it aside as well, leaving Ryou totally naked from the waist up.

It was for the scars. Five almost brown puncture marks decorated Ryou's breast, too dark to blend in properly. The boy cried out, trying to shove Bakura away.

"You can't escape me, Ryou," Bakura whispered, easily keeping Ryou pinned to the ground, straddling his waist, arms pinned to the floor. "I thought you would remember this as proof."

To Bakura's surprise, there were tears swelling in Ryou's broken eyes. Ryou weakly tried to shove the larger man off of him, silent sobs easing through his throat. Through his pathetic sobbing Ryou choked, "T-The Sennen Ring…"

Bakura grinned slightly. So Ryou _did _remember; he just tried to shove all of those memories into one lonely corner of his mind. And yet…

"Defiance. That's all it was," Bakura murmured. "I needed you, but you tried to throw me _away. _I don't like to be treated like a piece of _trash." _Bakura's eyes narrowed as an image of the Sennen Ring appeared in his mind, its pointers shoved into Ryou's chest, the puncture marks bloodied and swollen, all that time ago… "I did it so you couldn't get rid of me like you so badly wanted."

Ryou, however, remained mute. Bakura growled at this, anger bubbling under his skin. He wanted a response; his old host's ignorance easily irritated him.

"Why did you hate me?" Bakura asked, his voice a husky, dangerous whisper. The darkness's fingernails bit into Ryou's pale skin, practically drawing blood. Ryou cried out softly, trying to squirm away again, but Bakura easily held him down. "I did nothing to you, Yadonushi. And yet… You treated me so horribly."

"Nothing?" Ryou repeated, numbly. His eyes suddenly narrowed in rage. "Is spewing out lies your only skill?"

Bakura growled; a deep rumble in his throat. His fists began to tremble, and he wanted nothing more than to just _punch _Ryou, but he knew better than that. "I do not _appreciate _being deemed something that I am not-"

"Oh, _excuse _me!" Ryou screamed, beginning to cry all over again. "Apparently I was just supposed to stand there and let you use me as you wanted! You only wanted me as your vessel, and you _ruined _me life! I hate you! _I hate you!"_

And the tears broke free again. Ryou began sobbing uncontrollably, his dark, broken eyes overflowing with tears. They were glassy in memory, the shattered young man reliving all those memories he didn't want.

"Stop _crying," _Bakura snarled, trembling. Ryou did anything but that; in fact, his sobbing only grew worse. Bakura cursed loudly, close to a breaking point. "Stop _crying!" _he screamed, angrily pulling back a fist and letting it fly.

Ryou awaited the blow, but he never felt a thing, to his surprise. His eyes eased open to find Bakura's pale fist mere millimeters away from his skull, against the hardwood flooring. He glanced up, noticing the undeterminable look in Bakura's eyes.

"Crying doesn't solve anything, Yadonushi," Bakura whispered, glaring at his old host. "How many tears did you shed while I lived inside of you? And out of those many tears, how many actually made a difference?"

To Ryou's surprise, Bakura actually clambered off of him, standing at his side afterwards. The darkness tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, for he was dressed exactly the same as when he left.

"…You ruined everything," Ryou murmured, obviously heartbroken. His eyes grew dark, and out of the corner of his eye, Bakura saw Ryou reach for the bat again as he sat up. "You made my life nothing but _misery…"_

Bakura stood still, allowing Ryou to grab the weapon again, despite the fact that simple item had fractured some of his bones and brought bruises and blood.

"I never had a life because of you. Every friend I ever had… You put them into a coma. And yet… When Yuugi and the others met me, and you set eyes on them… You didn't get a _chance _to do away with them. And you decided to let them live. You could've killed them. You allowed me to socialize with them for a while, and then, whenever you saw what you wanted…that stupid _puzzle…_" Ryou's hands wrapped tight about the baseball bat. "You took over me, every single time. I still can't remember everything. I don't know why I was in the hospital, why my arm was cut to pieces, why I was on that platform staring Osiris in the face… And you found _amusement_ in that!"

Bakura didn't even blink this time as Ryou ran at him, wielding the weapon. Being defeated once already was embarrassing enough.

"You should've _stayed _gone," Ryou screamed, attempting to hit Bakura again, but the darkness was faster this time. He lashed out, grabbing the bat before Ryou had the chance to hit him. Ryou was unfazed, merely yanking it free and trying again. "I actually _have _a life now that you no longer exist-"

"That's where you're wrong," Bakura murmured. "Just because the Sennen Items were lost in that tomb… I am still tied to this world, whether you like or not-"

"That didn't mean you had to come back! Did you enjoy torturing me so much that you just couldn't wait to waltz back here like nothing has even changed?!"

No longer caring about his weapon, Ryou threw it down, instead going for Bakura with his hands. He grabbed the man by the shirt, his eyes locked with those granite-hard ones he had seen so much in the past…

"You _molded _me into what you wanted," Ryou choked out, suddenly weak as exhaustion hit. "I was nothing but your toy… Did you ever care about how _I _felt?"

Bakura had to admit, this was true; when he possessed Ryou, his host changed, slowly but surely. When his host was the meager age of nine, Bakura had first shown himself, locked away in the golden trinket of the Sennen Ring. And he knew Ryou did not trust him, yet…

He controlled Ryou like putty. When he first took control of the boy, he was weak; his spirit was restless and hungry, his mind in a frenzy as he looked for something to control.

For a while, he had controlled the boy aimlessly, which in turn led him to become even stronger. Not only had he been practicing in exercising his new skills of control, but as he began to live inside of Ryou, he easily connected to the boy, sucking him dry of his strength like a parasite.

When his little host grew weak, Bakura would stop for a while, allowing him to get back on his feet. After a while of all this, Bakura was growing stronger and stronger, but he knew he was still quite pathetic in terms of strength.

The years he spent in Ryou's body was not just a journey, but preparation. He harnessed his strength and grew, slowly but gradually. He knew, one day, the journey into the ancient times would take place… And he _had _to be ready.

"…You were of no importance," Bakura answered in all honesty. He folded his arms, uncaring of Ryou's hand shaking as it clutched his shirt. "You were just some kid. Why would I bother to care about you?"

A choked sob passed Ryou's lips, and the teen pulled back a hand, obviously making a move to slap Bakura. The thief was far quicker; his pupils shrunk slightly at this movement, and he grabbed Ryou by the hand, refusing to be struck again. He then grabbed Ryou's other hand, holding both of them before himself so Ryou couldn't touch him.

"I didn't do anything to you," Ryou sobbed, his brown pools suddenly turning misty. "I was just a kid… I was only a _kid…"_

Cautiously, Bakura allowed his bony fingers to unravel from Ryou's bony wrists. Almost instantly the young man collapsed onto his hands and knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He bowed his head, causing a curtain of white hair to fall into his face. Bakura watched as Ryou's still round shoulders shake harshly, the remainder of his body trembling roughly. Bakura heard the same phrase spill from the albino's lips over and over again: "I was just a kid…"

Bakura crouched down at the man's side, waiting a bit impatiently for Ryou to calm down, but after a few moments, and no results, Bakura angrily gripped the young man by a lock of his hair. Ryou slapped his hand away, rivers of tears spilling down his hollowed face. "G-Go away."

"Don't talk to me like that, Yadonushi," Bakura hissed, offended.

"Then don't call me your landlord," Ryou choked, pushing Bakura away by the chest. "I don't belong to you anymore-"

"Yes, you do. I've marked you for all eternity," Bakura said roughly, eyes drifting to the scars on Ryou's chest. "You will always be mine."

"I don't want you here," Ryou said stubbornly, still in tears. "I hate you…"

The psychological damage was just too much for Ryou to take. After Bakura's sudden leave, Ryou had slowly readjusted to being alone again, although not completely. The wounds upon his shallow heart began to scar over, but they had not healed. And now, with Bakura here, those scars were being ripped open like old stitches, letting loose everything Ryou didn't want.

Bakura stood, wincing at the agony in his broken bones. He still couldn't get his head around the fact Ryou had actually beaten him like that. He definitely wasn't expecting Ryou to be _waiting _for him when he picked the lock to the apartment…

The spirit stood there for a long moment, merely watching Ryou cry. For Bakura, all that was visible was the little boy he had first encountered, slowly growing and evolving into a meager shell of a teenager. Despite his outside, Ryou's heart had broken during those teenage years, never to advance any further.

Bakura knew, however, that if Ryou shut him out completely, there was no point in the situation. The Sennen Items were lost in the tomb, the god cards destroyed; the man had no purpose. And if Ryou didn't want him around, he knew he had nowhere else to go.

There was nothing left for him on this planet.

It was an almost hurtful thought. Bakura felt a bit of sweat forming on his palms at this thought, an almost tug of fear in his heart as he remembered it all.

Losing everything he had ever cared about, the war, the blood; his childhood lost in the fire. Adulthood spent in poverty and thievery, bloodthirsty and vengeful. And the thousands of years after that spent locked inside a piece of _jewelry…_

Bakura retreated a step from Ryou as the young man looked up at him with those too-large eyes. A bit of sweat trickled down Bakura's forehead as he saw nothing but his reflection; his old self, compressed into a tiny child. He was clad in nothing but rags, bones protruding like knives from under dark skin, and the bloodshot eyes that screamed for help. The whispered plea for help on thin lips-

Bakura desperately clasped his hands about his ears, closing his eyes. It had been several hundred years since images like this had appeared before him, and he didn't want them back.

He quickly shoved his hands into his coat pockets, collar upraised. Ryou blinked through his tears at this movement, surprised when Bakura turned away from him, and limped oh-so-carefully towards the door, for his lower leg was twisted with a fracture.

"Bakura…" Ryou called out softly, "Where are you going?"

Bakura knew this wasn't a last-second change of plans; this was mere curiosity. Ryou didn't want him there; he only wanted to know what he was going to do with himself.

"Away," Bakura murmured in response. It was the only thing that came to mind. After all, he was leaving; he would walk as far as he had to in order to find some type of purpose. "I'm going away."

And Ryou watched him disappear. He walked out of the front door so casually, not looking back. The door had been left wide open, and Ryou hurried over to see the man that had controlled him for so many years disappear forever.

Bakura stood on the sidewalk for a long moment, dusk colors painting the sky. The thief suddenly turned, and walked off, leaving it all behind him.

And Ryou watched him travel down the street, never looking back, never missing a step. Ryou knew he was in a desperate search for some reason to exist, some reason to belong…

And yet, at the same time, so was he.

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Chapter 9: End.


	10. Freak Show

A/N: Bleh. This one is an awfully, pathetically short oneshot, but I just couldn't figure out how to make it longer. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy this itty-bitty thing anyway, though!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

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Ryou sighed, tugging on his knee-high boots, allowing the tops to cover up the legs of his red pants. He was already wearing his black tee shirt that went with the outfit. A hair tie resided on his thin wrist so that he could pull his hair back once he was done getting dressed.

He glanced across the room. The room was cut in half, separated by a curtain so that the workers could dress and undress in privacy. However, shadows still resided on the curtain's surface.

Ryou already knew who was behind the curtain; he recognized that figure anywhere. He waited, silent, until the sheet was yanked open, revealing his teammate. Indeed, it was just who he thought it was…

The man walked past him, his steps quick and light. Confidence radiated from him, eyes that were outlined in kohl ablaze with a strength Ryou knew he couldn't ever match.

"Bakura?" Ryou asked, seated on one of the little benches that resided in each section of the room. He felt suddenly embarrassed as the man turned to look at him. Why was he even talking to him? "How many more…shows do we have left in this city before we move again?"

"Nine or ten, I can't remember," the man muttered, hands on his hips. Ryou just stared; Bakura's outfit was always so daring. The man wore a pair of jet black pants and black boots, but no shirt. His strong muscles stuck out on his skinny frame, totally obvious. His long, snowy hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore two chained bracelets on his left wrist. A studded armband on was on his right.

"Are you nervous about tonight's show?" Bakura inquired, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. He grinned slightly; pearl white teeth glimmered. "Afraid the lions will eat you?"

Ryou blushed. He was the lion tamer for the circus; hard to believe someone as spineless as he was occupied the position. "Let's hope they don't…"

Bakura's grin widened. "I'm pretty excited. I have a feeling tonight will be a great show," he said, stretching. "I've been practicing a ton these past few days…"

In Ryou's opinion, Bakura had the best job of the circus. He was the fire juggler, and he was the best Ryou had ever seen. The man had only one scar from his position, and that was on his wrist. Most of the performers Ryou knew had many more than that. Not only that, but Bakura was always so graceful. His movements were perfection, and he _never _made a mistake.

To Ryou's surprise, Bakura actually sat down next to him on the bench. Bakura draped his arms about the back of the seat, legs spread before him. He was silent after that.

Ryou knew Bakura didn't talk much. It wasn't that he was shy; it was just like he didn't have much to say. It was almost as if majority of conversations bored him.

Their leader suddenly opened the door, sticking his head into the room. After saying that there was a bit of time left before the showing began, he left.

"…What made you join this little traveling parade?" Bakura suddenly asked, breaking the silence between them. He looked at Ryou, his almost crimson eyes locking with Ryou's brown ones. "You're so young…"

Ryou was, in fact, the youngest of the pack. He was only nineteen; everyone else trailed him by a long shot. Bakura himself was twenty-two, and was the closest in terms of age to Ryou. However, majority of the performers were well into their thirties or forties by now.

"…I guess it's where I belong now," Ryou murmured, staring at the floor. "Dad always said if I did something like this then I don't need to come back home."

Bakura raised a snowy eyebrow, staring at Ryou. The boy was ghastly white; a bright red star had been painted under his left eye to make him look unique in the crowd of other tamers. "Why would he say that?"

"Because this is a freak job, and he's probably embarrassed because of me," Ryou muttered, glaring at the tiles. "But this is what I always wanted to do, even when I was a kid…"

Bakura sighed gently. "Look, kid. It's impossible to please everyone. At least try to be happy with your life. That should be at least one goal everyone should have. Don't work yourself to death trying to please anyone."

Ryou nodded, signaling he understood. He jumped when Bakura suddenly wrapped an arm about his shoulders, a grin on his lips. "You'll learn to love the whole team, I bet you." He poked Ryou in the cheekbone, grin growing bigger. "You won't _want _to leave when we're done with ya."

Ryou had only been in the circus business for a month, having started on his nineteenth birthday. Ryou glanced questioningly at Bakura, and asked, "How long did it take you to get accustomed to all this?"

Bakura hummed slightly, scratching his chin with his free hand, for the one was still draped over Ryou's shoulders. Then, he said, "Well, I joined this business when I was sixteen… I'm pretty sure it only took a couple of weeks. Then again, not wanting to go home made a big difference…"

"Wait. Did you just say you began when you were sixteen?" Ryou inquired, eyes growing large. "You said _I _was the young one-"

"Lack of money and dedication," Bakura cut in, shrugging. "I had dropped out of school and wanted to live on my own, but I needed money. I guess I found the perfect job here, huh?"

Bakura grinned, revealing his perfect smile. It made Ryou feel bizarre, seeing the man smile. After all, Bakura rarely showed emotion during business, if at all. It was as if he couldn't relate. But when he was around Ryou, he was a lot more talkative, and showed much more emotion.

"You know, we should really redo your image. You have really noticeable eyes, but everything else…" Bakura tilted his head. "It's a bit plain. Be a bit more daring, Ryou!" Suddenly, he grinned. "We should pierce your ear-"

"No way!" Ryou jerked away, covering the pieces of cartilage. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Why not?" Bakura asked with a shrug before brushing a few strands of snowy hair out of his face, revealing one perfectly shaped ear. Two silver hoops dangled off the side of Bakura's ear, towards the top, hanging in the cartilage.

Ryou just stared, as if he was hypnotized. He honestly didn't even know Bakura had his ears pierced. Even with his hair up, some of the man's snowy strands hung over his ears, successfully hiding them from sight.

"I… It would look bad on me," Ryou murmured, face blossoming into a cute shade of pink. "I-I already look like a freak-"

"A freak?" Bakura replayed, raising a perplexed eyebrow. "Is that all you think we are, kid? If you do, you're wrong."

"You can't possibly say that I'm not a freak," Ryou said, eyes narrowing as he stared into Bakura's own. "This is just a shelter for all the weird ones, just like me. You have to admit that no one likes us… We're just for entertainment, nothing else."

Bakura frowned deeply, brow creasing. "Don't be stupid. All of us here are one big family. Even if no one likes you within your own family, all of us love you in a certain way. All the fans will go crazy and all the little kids here today will want to be just like you. Sure, it's not a normal job you have, but it deserves some kind of special respect."

Bakura stood up, offering Ryou his hand. There was amusement in those crimson eyes. "Come on. Performance starts in five minutes. We need to hurry so we aren't late."

Shyly, Ryou took the extended hand, making an odd squeak as Bakura dragged him onto his feet so fast Ryou had a hard time maintaining his balance. Bakura pulled him out the door, all the while mocking the ringmaster's voice.

Ryou smiled, just slightly. Sure, it may have been an oddball occupation, but… Something told him that things were only going to get better from here on out.

* * *

Chapter 10: End.


	11. Reality

A/N: I guess this is what I kind of had a twisted view of by the time the series was over. No one knows what really occurred inside of Ryou's head when Bakura was ripped apart from him. It wasn't like he had a choice, either; Yuugi merely assumed it would be for the best to send Atemu away, not knowing the spirit of the ring would go too.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

His hands were cold in his own. Those eyes, once burning and bold, were now weary and glassy. His body, once so strong, was now lying crippled at his feet.

And Ryou didn't know what to do.

He was squeezing one of Bakura's hands as tight as he could, eyes welling with tears. Bakura was wheezing, his face twisted up in agony, his snowy mane falling into his eyes.

Suddenly, Bakura coughed, and Ryou paled as nothing but blood escaped those lips, which had grown so colorless.

"Y-Yami-sama…" Ryou was shaking as he cradled the man's hand tighter, feeling how rubbery his skin was, and yet he could touch the very bone beneath it…

Those eyes cracked open, dying. Those bony fingers struggled to curl about Ryou's own, twitching and shaking, but the job couldn't be done.

Suddenly Bakura threw back his head, sending it crashing against the floor. He began to cough more, spitting up blood as saliva cascaded down his chin.

It was getting cold in the room; _Bakura's _soul room…

He was convulsing, blood, spit, and tears getting everywhere as this happened. He was jerking wildly on the cold, tiled floor, but Ryou felt him struggling to squeeze his hand back… And yet…he couldn't.

Ryou hadn't even realized he was crying until now. With his free hand he tried to rub away the tears that were dribbling from his large brown eyes, making sure not to let go of Bakura's hand.

The near seizure died out, and Bakura began to pant, arching his back as he struggled to sit up on his own. His hand was shaking in Ryou's own as he did this, but he couldn't get up, and wound up smacking his spine on the floor as he collapsed.

"Y… Yado…nushi…" The words were weak and a struggle on Bakura's tongue. His mouth tasted like copper, jaw numb. It took what felt like all his strength just to speak.

It was getting hard to see straight. All the dull colors of his room were getting brighter, morphing into shades of black, grays, and white.

Ryou moved closer at Bakura's words, pressed close to his side, hovering over him. Bakura's bleary eyes locked with his one for a brief moment before the man spluttered suddenly, turning his head to the side as another wave of blood escaped from his lips.

Ryou was still in shock, not knowing what to do. But then again, what _could _he do?

Bakura swore softly, his voice quaking as much as his body was. He suddenly jerked his hand away, strained breaths passing through exhausted lungs. He tried to roll over in either direction, struggling to get off of his back, which felt like it was snapping into pieces under him.

Ryou's eyes widened slightly as another spell began, watching Bakura's body twist and writhe, the man looking like was wasting away.

He swears were coming faster and louder, accompanied by mouthfuls of blood and dulling vision. Bakura was sweating, those thin lips blossomed bright red by the means of blood.

"P…Pha…raoh…" Bakura choked out, arching his back. He coughed again, feeling absolutely sick as a wave of blood passed through him. "I…I'm gonna…"

"Y-Yami-sama…" Ryou tried to grab Bakura's hand, feeling hurt when Bakura jerked it away, out of reach. "W-Why…?"

Ryou knew he was dying, and he was, deep down, terrified. His entire body felt like it was being pricked with millions of tiny needles, the gears in his brain frozen, his throat closing up. He couldn't afford to lose the spirit, too-

Bakura trembled violently, his jerking hands groping at the tile as he struggled to sit up. "'Gonna…kill…him…"

Ryou tried to help the demon sit up, but the man refused, slapping Ryou's hands away once more. His mouth hung open, breathed ragged. He couldn't swallow anymore; saliva had pooled in his throat and was running down his chin, making the blood on his lips nearly shine.

Ryou's eyes widened, the male flinching as Bakura suddenly let out a hoarse cry, the bones in his shaking body suddenly cracking. The demon writhed suddenly, a painful-sounding crescendo of snaps and pops emitting from practically every joint in his body.

Bakura's brain was a mess. He couldn't think straight anymore, having grown colorblind, breathless; he couldn't even feel his body anymore.

"What is…he doing to you?" Ryou's voice cracked, broken eyes locked with Bakura's, which were empty themselves.

"I'm…" Bakura's eyes rolled backwards as he tried to sit up again; his skull hit the floor, successfully sending his vision spiraling out of control. "Losing…"

Ryou grew pale, stiffening. He knew the basic details of the duel between the demon and the pharaoh; the ultimate Yami no Game. And Bakura…was losing…?

Bakura squeezed his eyes shut, another series of cracks exploding from his breaking body. He choked, blood seeping between his clenched teeth as his body jerked involuntarily backwards; it was nearing the end now.

"Y… Yami…sama…" There were teardrops falling from Ryou's rapidly fogging eyes, spilling down his pallid face. He was also hurting deep inside, for their spirits were interlocked. "Y-You…"

"I'm…" His body was going into a fresh spasm, and he could barely speak, his every fiber spiraling out of control. "Not…" His hands clawed at the tile, his lungs being crushed inside of him, his bones shattering, hoarse cries escaping his lips, breath reeking of blood. "G-Going to…" Fingernails ripping across the ugly floor, blood pooling in his throat, his eyes gradually growing blank and yellowed… _I'm not going to make it._

He again tried to pick himself up, every bone and joint suddenly shattering under the skin. Bakura screamed, his body growing motionless. His mind was struggling to work, organs straining inside of him.

He couldn't move. He was broken, every internal pillar of support having been destroyed. He was like a doll; and yet, he could still survive, although… For how much longer?

It seemed, to Ryou, Bakura was going to survive all this. Even though he was practically paralyzed, he could still speak, still see, still breathe… Even though he had lost the game… He was barely holding on.

Bakura tried to relax the best he could for the time being; Ryou had managed to grab his hand, for Bakura couldn't move it away. His yellowed, bloodshot eyes had fallen shut, shallow breaths passing through him, nearly asleep…

Ryou, too, was exhausted. The events, so painful, so tragic, had drained him. He was beginning to nod off as well, pretty but dead eyes fluttering-

And suddenly Bakura screamed.

Ryou shot out of his sleepy state, dead awake now. Bakura was twitching again, but as he struggled to breathe, all that came up was blood, clogging him, stealing his chances at gaining air. He was choking…

And suddenly, he was beginning to disappear. Ryou's eyes bulged at this fact, watching Bakura's legs suddenly vanish as if they didn't exist. His stomach and chest were slowly beginning to disappear as well, leaving nothing but a cold view of the tile behind.

His eyes darted to Bakura's face, seeing the sweat pouring down his face, the blood spurting from his lips as he struggled to even get a fresh breath of air. He couldn't move, bones ground to dust inside of him. Every fiber of his being was on fire, and the blood escaping him felt as cold as ice-

"Y-Yado…nushi…!" Bakura's words were twisted and bubbling with pain. Ryou felt a tiny, desperate twitch of his fingertips, showing he was struggling to move, but that was an impossible task on its own.

"D-Don't leave me!" Ryou screamed, moving closer to Bakura. He desperately touched at the final one he had left, the only one closest to a friend or family, no matter the differences between them. "P-Please, Y-Yami-sama-"

"B… Ba…kura…" The demon whispered, blood staining his teeth and lips, mouth full of it. His eyes were blank, exhausted; his head was beginning to lull to one side. "My…n…name…"

"B…Baku…ra…" Tears burned Ryou's eyes, and the name felt bizarre on his tongue, for it was the first time, in the nine long years, he was allowed to call the demon anything else. "Bakura, please, don't…"

Those lips, broken in, bloodstained, twisted into that trademark smirk, revealing bloody canines, a mouth overflowing blood.

Not knowing what he was really doing, Ryou reached out, as if to touch the demon, but stopped halfway there. He wasn't allowed…to touch him.

"Ry…ou…" The words were slipping on Bakura's tongue, his eyes rolling back in his head, eyelids sliding closed. He was vanishing completely, his previous body now nothing but a rapidly disintegrating bust.

"Don't leave me!" Ryou screamed, sobbing openly. He did not care any longer about being seen in such a weak state; he wanted – no, needed – Bakura to stay. He couldn't lose the spirit, he couldn't… "Don't go!"

Again, a flash of a grin, Bakura's head rolling to one side as this occurred. All Ryou do was sit there, cry and scream, as he watched the man disappear.

There was nothing left. Just a miniature pool of blood, having been spilled from the demon's lips…

Ryou was in partial shock; the rest of his emotions were a mess. He was hunched on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, pleas and begs passing his swollen lips. He had lost the only thing that had remained in his life…

And now he had nothing.

Ryou was sobbing as he shifted his position, curling into himself as he began to completely break down. He had nothing left in his life now. The one thing, the one person…was gone, forever.

Alive mere moments before, and now…dead.

Ryou curled up further, the soul room, now void of its owner, getting an icy chill, growing pitch black. Ryou sobbed harder, rocking back and forth, the demon's weak, final words echoing in his numbed brain.

Everything that had ever kept him sane had disappeared.

Dead inside, Ryou began to choke on his tears, a waterfall of emotion ripping through him. He bowed his head. Just like that, his world was crashing to earth, from the previous clouds near space.

It felt like a dream, and yet it was reality. Harsh, brutal reality.

There was nothing he could do, however. Even what he cared for so much, needed to keep him sane, was gone, forever.

And there was no changing that.

* * *

Chapter 11: End.


	12. Colorblind

A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to thank you guys for the support and reviews, not just on this fic, but all the ones you have sent in. It means a lot to me. Anyway, enjoy this somewhat odd chapter! XD

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

"…Kura? Are you awake?"

The demon growled softly, digging his sharp nails into the leather couch before managing to prop himself upright. His form was bathed in blue from the television set, which played in the dark. He glared over the arm of the cracked, black sofa to see a little form staring at him in the thick darkness.

"What do you want, kid?" Bakura grumbled, sitting up completely. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the arm of the couch. A few feet lied between them still.

"…I…" The little one before him swallowed and licked his lips, holding up the piece of paper in his hands. "I made you something."

Bakura blinked, scrubbing at his eyes. It was late, and he was tired. Still… The demon shook his head with a sigh. "Let me see it, Ryou."

The little one handed the slightly wrinkled paper over, and the demon took it, looking at the doodle through the light of the television set. Bakura instantly grimaced at the sight.

He knew it wasn't just the light of the electronic device. All of the colors upon the drawing were practically inverted within the little doodle. Upon it were two figures – obviously which meant to be him and Ryou – standing upon thick grass, the sun in the background upon a sky. The colors, however, bothered him greatly. The grass was purple, the sky was yellow, the sun itself blue. The people were green and black and orange: everything they weren't supposed to be.

And yet Bakura forced himself to smile, setting the drawing down on the coffee table. "It's nice," he said softly, leaning back into the couch and yawning softly. "Thanks, kid."

Ryou smiled, obviously satisfied. Then, voice wavering a little, he spoke. "…Can I sit with you?"

Bakura blinked, a bit surprised by this request. He shrugged slightly into the leather interior. "I guess."

Ryou smiled, managing to clamber up onto the couch at the demon's side. The little one, dressed in his pajamas and thick socks, curled against his side with a satisfied beam. The skinny little boy curled up into a ball against Bakura, folding his legs under himself, pushing his head underneath Bakura's ribcage, snuggling up to him as much as he could.

Bakura groaned softly, hating this type of affection… But he knew the child couldn't help it. Having to deal with the pain, the grief, the isolation, he had to find _someone _to cling to, and in this case it was him.

Bakura propped his feet up on the coffee table, careful not to set them down on Ryou's drawing. His huge, black boots clunked slightly as he did this. He relaxed into the leather couch, yawning softly, the images on the screen seeming far fuzzier as his eyelids were starting to get heavy.

"…Kura… Did the doctor call today?"

Bakura blinked, suddenly becoming a bit more awake. He scowled, looking down at the fragile creature nestled under his arm, who looked very upset. Bakura frowned at this. "Yes, why?"

"…What'd he say?" The child asked softly.

Bakura bit his lip, looking down at Ryou's chubby little face. Thick waves of white hair fell into that pale face, and into big brown eyes. Those eyes, so large, were hidden behind a pair of huge, thick glasses. Through the glass Bakura could see the brown irises, clouded and foggy, no light reflecting in them.

"Ryou… The doctor said it's not going to get much better," Bakura said gently, having placed a hand atop Ryou's head, messing his hair. "There's nothing that can be done at this point…"

Ryou was a monochromat; news that Bakura discovered when Ryou even started preschool.

"_Look at the rainbow, Ryou. Over there." A bony finger pointing in the distance, towards downtown. "See it?"_

"_No, Kura. What am I looking at?" A worried frown. "All I see is an ugly sky."_

That had made Bakura feel like his world came crashing down; after all, at the moment, the sky was bright blue, painted with those rainbow colors. Ryou was looking straight in the rainbow's direction, but it was like he couldn't detect it was there…

Not only that, but before then, Bakura had tried to teach Ryou a few things before he got into school, as to be 'ahead' of the group. He liked the opportunity of having Ryou be in the lead. But Ryou couldn't ever get the colors right. No matter how many times Bakura told him, showed him, Ryou couldn't ever tell them apart.

"_It's… Gray…?"_

"_Ryou, no." A finger pointing at the splotches. "Gray is all the way over here. That one is green."_

"…_O-Oh…"_

"_What's the one next to your hand?"_

"_U-Uh… Yellow?" he guessed._

"_Ryou… That's red." A worried frown. "Why are you guessing, kid?"_

"_They all look the same to me, Kura…"_

The news came in not long after that Ryou was suffering from monochromacy, a disorder where the victim was completely colorblind. While most colorblind disorders allowed people to see certain spans of color, monochromacy didn't allow them to distinguish between colors.

While most people had a set of cones and rods in their eyes, Ryou didn't. He was missing his rods…disabling him from seeing any color at all, only gray. Not only that, but due to his disorder, Ryou's vision was also very poor. Chances were the boy would be stuck with his grossly terrible vision his entire life.

What upset Bakura was the fact that monochromacy is the incredibly rare form of color blindness in people. And for Ryou, the happy-go-lucky little boy, who was already suffering enough as it was, to have it…

Not just that, but Bakura knew Ryou's dreams of becoming an artist wouldn't ever come true. How could it when he couldn't even tell which color was which?

Ryou let out a little sniffle, leaning into Bakura's side, closing his eyes. Due to him basically being crushed against Bakura his glasses began to fog up, and the little one let out a weak whine, teardrops beginning to trickle down those round cheeks. "I wanna be normal too…"

With a sigh Bakura rested his chin atop of Ryou's head, managing to hold in a scowl as Ryou was beginning to burrow deeper and deeper into his side. The child was basically crushed against him, clinging to his clothing desperately, crying softly into the demon's chest.

"It's not fair…" Ryou mumbled, chubby little fingers digging into Bakura's snug top. "It's not fair, why did it have to be me…?"

"Ryou…" Bakura groaned, raking his fingers through Ryou's hair. "You need to calm down. If nothing can be done there's no use groveling about it."

"…But…" Ryou looked up, and Bakura swallowed at those broken eyes. "B-But… I-It hurts… M-Make it go away…"

"…I can't." Bakura sighed, the demon almost uncomfortably wrapping his arms about Ryou. "There's nothing I can do, kid."

Bakura sighed softly into Ryou's hair as the child's crying increased. With strong arms Bakura wrapped the limbs about the child and heaved him up into his arms, rising from the battered sofa. He held Ryou with ease and slipped quietly through the den and in the direction of the bedrooms.

Ryou, crying softly, didn't notice as Bakura carried him into his room. The demon made his way around the near catastrophe his room was in, making it over to his bed, and set the child down upon the mattress, the sheets kicked to a puddle on the carpeted floor.

Afterwards Bakura sat down as well, grabbing Ryou's chin in one hand, and forced the little boy to look at him. "Ryou, listen to me, very carefully, okay?"

Ryou made no movement, but by the way he was biting his lip to hold in his cries and how his eyes were focused on him for the most part proved he was paying attention.

"This is kind of like a game," Bakura started, tilting his head slightly, his fingers not budging. "It's very simple… Do you want to give it a shot?"

Not in the mood, Ryou shook his head, crying softly still.

"Ryou, come on," Bakura said gently, trying to pull off the most upset and sympathetic tone he could. "For me?"

"…Okay." Ryou caved in, looking Bakura in the eyes. "What do I do?"

Bakura rose from the bed, standing up. His hands went to his back pocket, both at the same time, before he quickly slipped something out and into one of his fists. He shuffled it around for a moment before holding out both closed fists to Ryou. "Pick one. I'm pretty sure you know how this works."

And Ryou chose the right hand, just like always… And just how Bakura predicted the kid would.

The demon uncurled his fingers, and Ryou blinked. Inside Bakura's hand sat a piece of paper, its edges tattered and worn down, and starting to rip. What Ryou found interesting was that instead of being folded like a rectangle, the paper was somehow folded into what appeared to a heart.

With a scowl Ryou took it from Bakura's hand, turning it over a few times in his hands before noticing a small, folded corner. Looking up at Bakura for a moment, and getting a nod of approval, Ryou took the corner and proceeded to unfold like the little creation, frowning when something else fell out. It was square and what felt like plastic as it dropped into Ryou's lap.

The child frowned and picked it up, holding it in his chubby fingers before his eyes rose to Bakura, and he scowled. "I don't…understand, Kura."

"It's a gift, kid." Bakura reached out a mussed Ryou's hair with one hand. "There's quite a bit of money on that little plastic card. And I want you to spend every bit of it."

Ryou frowned. "I still don't get it." He looked down at the gray card in his hands with a scowl. "How does this have anything to do with the talk 'bout my eyes?"

"Because…" Bakura started, having picked up the piece of paper and was already refolding it into a heart again. "Tell me kid, when was the last time someone gave you a present?"

Ryou visibly started. "Before mommy and daddy…"

"Bingo." Bakura, having successfully folded the little piece of paper back up, set it down on the bed. "And the last thing they bought you was…?"

Ryou looked suddenly upset, "Markers-"

"Exactly… And what haven't I given you?" Bakura asked, not even waiting for a reply this time. "I haven't given you any gifts, Ryou. And at this time, _now… _When you're upset and hurting and you don't know if you'll be able to be what to you want to be, start now." Bakura appeared grossly calm, his complex mind buzzing. "You told me a long time ago you wanted to be an artist, am I correct?"

Ryou nodded.

"And you're a very good little artist… But due to your little issue, using anything involving color wouldn't work out very well unless everything was labeled, but I'm sure that would take an eternity, and besides, you need your eyes for your judgment on how it looks…" Bakura sat back down. "So I was thinking you should venture into something else. I'm not going to pressure you into anything; that's one reason for the card. You can buy whatever you so desire, so long as it's for the purpose I set for you. I want you to experiment, Ryou. Try to make yourself happier and determine what you want to get done with your life."

"But, Kura…" Ryou looked both happy and yet uncertain. "I don't…"

"You don't _what?"_

"I… What else is there?" the child asked, voice wavering.

"Tch. Charcoal, inking, just plain old drawing, whatever you want, kid." Bakura rolled his eyes. "Try to use different materials if you can, too."

Ryou was silent for what seemed to be an eternity before a tiny smile came over his lips. "…Thank you, Kura. This was really nice…"

"It's the least I could do," Bakura said casually, trying to pick some of the dirt out from underneath his fingernails.

"Just…one thing."

"And that would be…?" Bakura glanced up at the child's statement, frowning.

"You… You gotta promise to use this stuff with me." Ryou smiled a bit. "I wanna use everything I get with you. You gotta test it out with me."

"Sure, sure, whatever," Bakura said, a rare grin on those lips. Reaching forward, and, with surprising gentleness, wiped the remainders of tears away from Ryou's cheeks, his fingertips slipping with ease underneath the rim of Ryou's glasses and back again. "Such a brave request…"

Ryou giggled softly, making his way closer and hugging the demon round the waist, his head buried in the man's chest. "Thank you so much…"

"I already told you not to worry about it," Bakura groaned, but he found himself grinning, a scarred hand ruffling Ryou's already messy hair. "Sheesh."

And Ryou smiled.

* * *

Chapter 12: End.


	13. Lies

**A/N: **Life called. We had a nice chat. A nice, long chat. And now that the conversation is finally finalized, _I'm back_. Whether or not I'm better is for you to decide. Anyway. Short chapter, but hey, it's a day back from a hiatus; I have to get my mojo going again. Thank you to those that waited this period out with me. I appreciate it.

Happy Halloween. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

"Do you even care?"

He lingered in the doorway, and I watched him in silence as he moved, just slightly, to put more of his weight against the frame.

I shrug. "Does an answer even make a difference?"

"You tell me."

His voice is low, laced with that same mysterious tone he always has. He moves slightly, practically floating as he walks as his heels never touch the floor as he carries himself with high pride.

He seats himself on the coffee table in front of me as I sit upon the sofa. Our faces are only a couple feet apart and he suddenly smirks, leaning forward some, suddenly digging his fingertips into the knees of my pants as he speaks lowly, "You never answered the question."

I keep eye contact, but I say nothing.

He doesn't seem to change by my lack of response. He merely digs through the pocket of his tattered, fur-lined jacket and extracts a carton of cigarettes. As he puts the stick between his lips, I move almost automatically, taking the lighter from the coffee table and do him the favor of lighting the cigarette for him.

He merely stares at me in silence, and I stare back. His lips twitch as he puts the stick between two pale fingers, before leaning in, blowing the smoke in my face.

I tense, turning my head away the best I can, holding my breath for all its worth, and-

"Liar."

I bite the inside of my cheek, keeping my gaze away as firmly as I can, still holding my breath, my lungs coiling-

I jump as he suddenly pounces, his free hand grabbing the hem of my shirt as he bites the end of the cigarette to hold it in place, pushing me over with a force I had long forgotten about.

"Look at me."

He lets go of me, exhaling slowly and thus causing a near billow of smoke to leave him as he speaks. I look over, not moving from my flopped over position, as if it would protect me, as if he was a predator waiting for my defenses to fall.

"You act as if lying is going to make it better." He speaks quietly, puffing away once more; his momentary feelings of borderline rage vanishing so much like the smoke leaving his pastel lips.

"I'm not lying." My voice comes smaller, weaker, than I had originally hoped for. It comes as a mere squeak, almost.

"Are." He argues back in an almost amused fashion. "Face it. All you can do is-"

"Shut up!" I scream suddenly, my hands curling into fists, a sudden burst of anger exploding in my ribcage. "You don't know anything! You don't know anything about me!"

"I know all you can do is lie to yourself because you don't want to face the truth." He says coolly, taking one last drag on his cigarette before terminating it in the ashtray sitting beside his thigh.

I merely grit my teeth, hands clenched, and I glare at him as if it would make him disappear into smoke like that still trails from the ashtray.

"I don't see why you're upset with _me." _He drawls out absently, a final string of smoke leaving him before it all disappears from his being. "I have nothing to do with your petty little lies."

"…It has nothing to do with you." I say shortly in response, as if his truthful statement has further angered me.

"Then why must you act like a child?"

I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I suddenly snap my eyes shut, hold my breath, all in attempts to separate every fiber of my being from this prison they call an earth-

"Open your eyes." His breath, stained with that stench of cancerous smoke, implodes gently upon my face. Upon instinct my lungs coil as I cut off the oxygen supply to them.

But I obey. I open my eyes slowly, going against my instincts to pull away when his face is only a mere half inch from mine. He smirks suddenly, but his voice is not amused: "You're satisfied with resorting to lies?"

I bite my tongue roughly before I say slowly, "I…don't want to lie…"

"Then why do you?"

The reply was sharp, and I flinch by mistake. He knows by now, if he hadn't already, that he has the upper hand of the conversation.

"I said, why do you?" he asks once more when my silence greets his ears: an unwelcomed visitor.

"…It's safer."

He twirls his head slightly and flips his skull sideways, sending his bangs flopping over and out of his eyes before he looks at me, those red eyes judging, questioning, wondering, before he says choppily: "Liar."

I want to scream. My head hurts. There's too much noise inside my head, always, I can't get it out. I can't think straight, can't gain any silence, _why _can't I-

"Ryou."

I let out a choked cry as he says my name. Tears gather behind my eyelids, the noise pounds mercilessly against my temples, inside out. The screeching pounding of a heartbeat echoes in my mind and I beg mentally for peace, but who is there to hear me over the never-ending noise? _Why? _Why can't I make it-

"Ryou, _look _at me," he snarls.

My eyes open slowly as his hands suddenly settle on my jawbones. They are rough, masculine, everything mine are not. His fingers are twitching and I know he is angry. I am ashamed as I allow the tears to simply make their way down my face.

"You're not happy."

My face wrinkles in a snarl of its own suddenly. "I _know _that." I hiss.

"How long have you been unhappy?" he asks suddenly, tone suddenly blank and drawling.

I pause. My search my buzzing brain for answers, find nothing, and I become angry suddenly. Angry at my lack of answers, control, silence-

"Why did you become unhappy?" he continues.

"…Them." I say vaguely. I can tell by the gleam in his eyes he knows who I speak of without any further description.

"They hurt you, no?" he offers, having released my face by now and is just staring at me, his palms splayed on the table.

"Yes." My response is short and to the point. I do not wish to talk of this subject; it hurts. Makes my still-racing brain throb and my heart twist inside my chest, make my stomach sick-

"And you don't wish to speak of the truth because it hurts you. You'd rather lie to try to forget than to remember," he says roughly, voice rising some.

"Yes, okay?" I suddenly explode. My tears come violently and my head sharply sinks. I sob and choke and sniff, shame flowing along with my tears, and I just sit there, sobbing, just wishing I could disappear.

"You act as if it will make it better…"

"It isn't worth it," I manage to get out between pathetic sobs.

"And how do you know such a thing if you don't try?"

I keep crying, but listen to what he says. My brain quiets slightly as I struggle to pick apart his sentence. "…It's…they don't care…"

"And? Who cares?" he says in that simplistic manner. "Do it for yourself, not for them."

I sniffle some more, struggling to remove the tears, and I nod slowly, but do not look up.

He suddenly stands up. "Pull yourself together."

I sniffle, lifting my head at last to look at him.

"Get up. You have better things to do than sit there."

I pause before I stand. I keep my head bowed, before he nudges my arm, and I lift my head up slowly. Wiping at my face one last time, I look at him, and sniff slightly, and then, I allow myself to smile, for at last, I can hear myself think.

* * *

Chapter 13: End.


	14. Life Guard

A/N: Sorry; I haven't had much free time as of late, so writing time has been limited. But I'm getting there. Thank you for your patience!

* * *

"They can only touch you if you allow them to. If you're strong, no one can take control of you."

The smaller did not move; he merely stared out at the ocean that was painted golden orange by the dipping sun. Gulls cawed wildly as they circled the sands from above, snatching fish from the water.

"Just remember that."

He could hear them coming now over the sand dunes. The loud echo of guns, the stampede of feet, and the roar of motorized vehicles: it was all proof enough.

"Ryou. Are you listening?"

He stood quietly on the tan grains of sand, the water mere inches from his huge black boots. The child, who had wandered off to the edge of the water, giggled loudly and childishly as the water lapped at his ankles.

"Ryou… Listen to me."

He went forward, his boots squishing in the wet mixture of sand and salty water, snatching up the toddler. The small form gave a pitched whine, kicking and grabbing for the sand that remained well out of his reach.

The larger sighed as he forced the younger to look at him. Ryou just blinked up at him, his four-year-old eyes open wide and reflecting the golden hues of the sun, locks of white hair alit with oranges and yellows.

"Kuwa?" He began to pat at the beautifully embroidered pattern on the older's breast. "Down…"

"Not until you listen to me," He argued. He shifted the small form, holding the child gently, and turned once more to the ocean. He spoke much more quietly, "Now, tell me, Ryou… What do you do when strangers ask you for something?"

He seemed to ponder this for a very long time, before blurting happily, "Tell them no!"

Bakura gave a very sad smile then. "Exactly right."

"_He has the ability to withhold land and money for us. Right now, he is the most value thing in our kingdom. And people _will _be after him for those reasons. Ryou is the greatest treasure of our lands._

"_And it's because of that he needs to be taught. He will be bribed, and he needs to learn how to say no: to avoid the pitfalls and traps of other lands that attempt to bait him."_

"Down, now?" Ryou asked hopefully, looking up at Bakura with a happy smile.

"Yeah… I guess…" Bakura seemed suddenly sad as he set the child down on the edge of the water. The small form squealed in delight and waddled into the tide, successfully getting his small trousers and short-sleeved shirt wet without difficulty.

Bakura just stood in silence as he stared at the sun, arms folded behind his back, chest outward in pride, the golden orbs of buttons on his uniform gleaming brightly. He blinked, however, at a tug on the leg of his cream pants.

"Kuwa! Play with me!" Ryou demanded, pouting, as he tugged harder on the uniform. His cheeks puffed in anger when Bakura simply turned away from his request. "_Kuwa! Play _with me!" He ordered, sounding upset, and began to tug more. He stopped suddenly, however, when Bakura removed his hat.

Bakura _never _took off his hat! The child struggled to understand what was happening when the older suddenly pulled the fabric on top of his own head. The huge brim covered his entire forehead, and the red and gold embroidery glistened brightly in the sunlight. The huge cream feather hanging from the center bounced slightly in the slight amount of present wind.

"I want you to hold onto that for me. Can you do that?" Bakura whispered, suddenly crouching down to meet the child's gaze. An unusually sad smile was coming up on Bakura's lips.

"Uh-huh," Ryou answered, tugging the hat down on his head tightly, before his eyes widened as tears slowly started to trickle down Bakura's face. "…Kuwa?"

"Go play." Bakura said softly, wiping his eyes. "Go."

"But Kuwa-"

"Ryou. Go play." Bakura said softly, but sternly. He watched the child slowly make his way back to the water's edge, hat engulfing his small head.

He turned slightly. He could see the beginning of the soldiers in the distance. He glanced back at Ryou, and spoke again, despite his previous orders. "Ryou."

"Huh?" The child asked without turning.

"Who am I?"

"Kuwa!" The child blurted out, looking at the man with a beam.

"No, Ryou. I mean… _Who? _What do I do as a job?"

"Kuwa, the militawy man." Ryou managed to say, with difficulty. He made his way over then and traced the beautiful stitches on Bakura's knee-long coat, and on his pants. "You got a gun and walk awound and fight and stuff."

"Why do I fight, Ryou?"

He frowned; he didn't seem to know how to answer this time.

"I fight to protect people." Bakura answered, gently touching Ryou's face. "Very important people…"

"_Protect him with your life, Bakura."_

_The young soldier accepted the sleeping infant without word, though his expression was proof enough he was confused._

"_His name is Ryou. Three years of age. And, most importantly, prince of the kingdom. His safety is key to the kingdom's survival. I need you to guard him with your life. Take him out of the city before the military invades, and take him far away. Surely soon enough war is going to erupt, and if he isn't removed before then, we're doomed."_

"_I understand, sir." Bakura answered sharply, swelling in confidence, in pride; he held the child gently, though, and the buttons on his uniform gleamed brightly. "I accept this task."_

He bit the inside of his cheek suddenly. Ryou blinked, and asked very quietly, "Kuwa… Why…you so sad?"

"Is there anyone you love, Ryou?" Bakura suddenly asked.

"You!" Ryou smiled, and hugged the taller's leg. "Do you love me?" he asked, looking up at Bakura.

"Yeah. I love you a lot, squirt." Bakura chuckled a little, looking down. His ponytail hung heavily, and his bangs fell into his eyes. And one tear dribbled down his cheek. "Ryou. Do me a favor."

"Huh?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Do you remember the game we played a long time ago? About hiding?"

"I know," Ryou answered. "I find a place to hide."

"And do you come out?"

"Unless you tell me to, or if it gets quiet." Ryou informed, swaying slightly. "Why? Awe we playing, Kuwa?"

"Yeah, let's play. Go hide over there-" he said, bending down slightly to point at a small gap between dunes. "-and I'll hide be there soon."

"Okay!" Ryou took Bakura's bait, hurrying off to the hiding spot picked for him, and disappeared quickly from Bakura's sights.

Once he was gone, Bakura turned to face the ocean one more time, smiling sadly, before facing the dunes. He could see people. Angry people, armed people; too _many _people.

He grabbed his gun, and did not bother to aim at anyone, merely holding it loosely as the swarms approached; and it was then he heard gunshots.

He felt the stinging agony of bullets, but only for a second. He crashed onto his back in the sand, holding weakly at his chest. Blood stained his uniform in seconds, and his breath began to grow heavy.

He looked heavenward, seeing the feather of a gull; and he smiled, just slightly, before the world grew dark.

* * *

Chapter 14: End.


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